J 



'CI 



NEW EDITION. 



" Tlie enduring- monuments of Fenimore Cooper are his 
works. WMle the love of country continues to prevail, his 
memory will exist in the hearts of the people. So truly patriotic 
and American throughout, they should find a place in every 
American's library. — Daniel Webster. 



The undersigned have commenced the publication of a new Library 
Edition of Cooper's Novels, well printed and bound in handsome style. 
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1. Xlte Spy. 

2. The Pilot. 

3. Red KoTer. 

41. Xlie I>eerslayer. 
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16. Mileiii IValliiiglbi-d 
I'J'. IVtiig- and IViitg-. 

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«. Tlie laSLSt of tlie Mo- '^l- Tlie Red-skins. 
hicans. S3. Xlie Crater. 

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8. Xlie Prairie. 34. Home as Kouud. 
O. I^ionel Liincoln. 35. Heidennianer. 

10. Wept of VTish-ton. 30. XUe Headsman. 

"Wish. 37. jTaek Xier. 

11. Xlie i;Fater.witcU. 38. Xlie Sea Lions. 
13. Xlie RraTo. 39. Wyandotte. 

13. Mercedes of Castile. 30. Xlie Monikins. 

14. Xlie Xwo Admirals. 31. Precaution. 

15. Afloat and Ashore. 33. ^Vays of tlie IBou.-. 

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D. APPLETON k CO.. PnDllsliers, New Yort 



JArCOay Jy. ^Ou/re/j. 





THE CHAIISTBEAREH. 



THE CHAINBEARER; 



OR, 



THE LITTLEPAGE MANUSCEIPTS. 



BY 

J. FENIMORE COOPER 



*' O bid our vain endeavors cease, 
Eevlve the just designs of Greece ; 
Keturn in all thy simple state, 
Confirm the tale her sons relate." 

Collins. 



NEW YORK: 
D. APPLETOlSr AND COMPANY 

54 9 & 5 5 1 B ROADWAY. 
1873. 







Entered, according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1S59, by 

W. A. TOWNSEND AND COMPANY, 

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the Southern District of Now Tnrls. 







PREFACE. 



The plot has thickened in the few short months that 
have intervened since the appearance of the first por- 
tion of our Manuscripts, and bloodshed has come to 
deepen the stain left on the country bj the widespread 
and bold assertion of false principles. This must long 
since have been foreseen ; and it is perhaps a subject 
of just felicitation, that the violence which has occurred 
was limited to the loss of a single life, when the chances 
were, and still are, that it will extend to civil war. 
That portions of the community have behaved nobly 
under this sudden outbreak of a lawless and unprin- 
cipled combination to rob, is undeniable, and ought to 
be dwelt on witli gratitude and an honest pride ; that 
the sense of right of much the larger portion of the 
country has been deeply wounded, is equally true ; that 
justice has been aroused, and is at this moment speak- 
ing in tones of authority to the offenders, is beyond 
contradiction : but, while all this is admitted, and ad- 



VI PEEFACE. 



mitted not altogether without hope, yet are there 
grounds for fear, so reasonable and strong, that no 
writer who is faithful to the real interests of his coun- 
try ought, for a single moment, to lose sight of them. 

High authority, in one sense, or that of political 
power, has pronounced the tenure of a durable lease to 
be opposed to the spirit of the institutions ! Yet these 
tenures existed when the institutions were formed, and 
one of the provisions of the institutions themselves 
guarantees the observance of the covenants under which 
the tenures exist. It would have been far wiser, and 
much nearer to the truth, had those who coveted their 
neighbors' goods been told that, in their attempts to 
subvert and destroy the tenures in question, they were 
opposing a solemn and fundamental provision of law, 
and in so much opposing the institutions. The capital 
error is becoming prevalent, which holds the pernicious 
doctrine that this is a government of men, instead of 
one of principles. Whenever this error shall so far 
come to a head as to get to be paramount in action, the 
well-disposed may sit down and moarn over, not only 
the liberties of their country, but over its justice and 
its morals, even should men be nominally so free as to 
do just what they please. 

As the Littlepage Manuscripts advance, we find them 
becoming more and more suited to the times in which 
we live. There is an omission of one generation, how- 
ever, owing to the early death of Mr. Malbone Little- 
page, who left an only son to succeed him. This son 
has felt it to be a duty to complete the series by an 
addition from his own pen. Without this addition, we 



PEEFACE. Vll 



should never obtain views of Satanstoe, Lilacsbush, 
Eavensnest, and Mooseridgc, in their present aspects ; 
while with it, we may possibly obtain glimpses that will 
prove not only amusing but instructive. 

There is one point on which, as editor of thuse Muiin- 
scripts, we desire to say a word. It is thought by a 
portion of our readers, that the first Mr. Littlepage who 
has written, Cornelius of that name, has manifested an 
undue asperity on the subject of the New England 
character. Our reply to this charge is as follows : In 
the first place, we do not pretend to be answerable for 
all the opinions of those whose writings are submitted to 
our supervision, any more than we should be answerable 
for all the contradictory characters, impulses and opinions 
that might be exhibited in a representation of fictitious 
characters, purely of our own creation. That the Little- 
pages entertained New York notions, and, if the reader 
will, New York prejudices, may be true enough ; but 
in pictures of this sort, even prejudices become facts 
that ought not to be altogether kept down. Then, New 
England has long since anticipated her revenge, glori- 
fying herself and underrating her neighbors in a way 
that, in our opinion, fully justifies those who possess a 
little Dutch blood in expressing their sentiments on the 
subject. Those who give so freely should know how to 
take a little in return ; and that more especially, when 
there is nothing very direct or personal in the hits they 
receive. For ourselves, we have not a drop of Dutch 
or New England blood in our veins, and only appear 
as a bottle-holder to one of the parties in this set-to. 
If we have recorded what the Dutchman says of the 



VUl PEEFAOE. 



Yankee, we Lave also recorded what the Yankee sajs, 
and that with no particular hesitation, of the Dutch- 
man. We know that these feelings are bygones ; but 
our Manuscripts, thus far, have referred exclusively to 
the times in which they certainly existed, and that, too, 
in a force quite as great as they are here represented 
to be. 

We go a little farther. In our judgment the false 
principles that are to be found in a large portion of tlie 
educated classes, on the subject of the relation between 
landlord and tenant, are to be traced to the provincial 
notions of those who have received their impressions 
from a state of society in which no such relations exist. 
The danger from the anti-rent doctrines is most to bo 
apprehended from these false principles ; — the mis- 
guided and impotent beings who have taken the field 
in the literal sense, not being a fourth part as formid- 
able to the right as those who have taken it in the 
moral. There is not a particle more of reason in the 
argument which says that there should be no farmers, 
in the strict meaning of the term, than there would be 
in that which said there should be no journeymen con- 
nected witli the crafts ; though it would not be easy to 
find a man to assert the latter doctrine. We dare say, 
if there did happen to exist a portion of the country 
in which the mechanics were all "bosses," it would 
strike those who dwelt in such a state of society, that 
it would be singularly improper and anti-republican for 
any man to undertake journey work. 

On this subject we shall only add one word. The 
column of society must have its capital as well as its 



PREFACE. 



IX 



base. It is only perfect while each part is entire, and 
discharges its proper duty. In New York the great 
landholders long have, and do still, in a social sense, 
occupy the place of the capital. On the supposition 
that this capital is broken and hurled to the ground, 
of what material will be the capital that must be pushed 
into its place ! "We know of none half so likely to 
succeed, as the country extortioner and the country 
usurer! We would caution those who now raise the cry 
of feudality and aristocracy, to have a care of what 
they are about. In lieu of King Log, they may be de- 
voured by Xing Stork. 




i\iiiir 




^•'■^' 






THE CHAINBEARER. 



CHAPTER I. 

" The steady brain, the sinewy limb. 
To leap, to climb, to divo, to swim: 
The iron frame, inured to bear 
Each dire inclemency of air; 
Nor less confirmed to undergo 
Fatigue's faint cliill, and famine's throe." 

EoKEn\ 

My father was Cornelius Littlepagc, of Satanstoe, in tlie 
county of Westchester, and state of New York ; and my mother 
was Anneke Mordaunt, of Lilacsbush, a place long known by 
that name, which still stands near Kingsbridgc, but on the 
Island of Manhattan, and consequently in one of the wards of 
New York, though quite eleven miles from town. I shall sup- 
pose that 7ny readers know the difference between the Island 
of Manhattan, and Manhattan Island ; though I have found sol- 
di sant Manhattanese, of mature years, but of alien birth, who 
had to be taught it. Lilacsbush, I repeat therefore, was on 
the Island of Manhattan, eleven miles from town, though in the 
city of New York, and not on Manhattan Island. 

Of my progenitors further back, I do not conceive it necessary 
to say much. They were partly of English, and partly of Low 
Dutch extraction ; as is apt to be the case with those who come 
of New York families of any standing in the colony. I retain 
tolerably distinct impressions of both of my grandfathers, and 



12 THE CIIAINBEARER. 

of one of my grandmothers; my motlier's mother having died 
long before my own parents were married. 

Of my maternal gi'andfather I know very little, however, ho 
having died while I was quite young, and before I had seen 
much of him. He paid the great debt of nature in England, 
whither he had gone on a visit to a relative, a Sir Something 
Bulstrode, who had been in the colonies himself, and who was 
a great favorite with Herman Mordaunt, as my mother's parent 
was universally called in New York. My father often said, it 
was perhaps fortunate in one respect, that his father-in-law died 
as he did, since he had no doubt he would have certainly taken 
sides with the crown, in the quarrel that so soon after occurred, 
in which case it is probable his estates, or those which were 
my mother's, and are now mine, would have shared the fate of 
those of the De Lanceys, of the Philipses, of some of the Van 
Cortlandts, of the Floyds, of the Joneses, and of various others 
of the heavy families, who remained loyal, as it was called ; 
meaning loyalty to a prince, and not loyalty to the land of their 
nati\aty. It is hard to say which were right, in such a quarrel, 
if we look at the opinions and prejudices of the times, though 
the Littlepages to a man, which means only my father, and 
grandfather, and self, took sides with the country. In the way 
of self-interest, it ought to be remarked, however, that the 
Avealthy American who opposed the crown, showed much the 
most disinterestedness, inasmuch as the chances of being sub- 
dued were for a long time very serious, while the certainty of 
confiscation, not to say of being hanged, was sufificiently well 
established, in the event of failure. But my paternal gi-and- 
father was what was called a whig, of the high caste. He was 
made a brigadier in the militia, in 17 7 6, and was actively em- 
ployed in the great campaign of the succeeding year — that in 
which Burgoyne was captured, as indeed was my father, who 
held the rank of lieutenant-colonel in the New York line. There 
was also a Major Dirck Yan Yolkenburgh, or Follock, as he 
was usually called, in the same regiment wuth my father, who 
was a sworn friend. This Major Follock was an old bachelor, 



THE CHAIN BEARER. 13 

and ho lived quite as mucli in my father's house as he did in 
his OAvn ; his proper residence being across the river, in Rock- 
land. My mother had a friend, as well as my father, in the 
person of Miss Mary Wallace ; a single lady, well turned of 
thirty at the commencement of the revolution. Miss Wallace 
was quite at ease in her circumstances, but she lived altogether 
at Lilacsbush, never having any other home, unless it might bo 
at our house in town. 

We were very proud of the brigadier, both on accoimt of his 
rank and on account of his services. He actually commanded 
in one expedition against the Indians during the revolution, a 
service in which he had some experience, having been out on 
it, on various occasions, previously to the great struggle for 
independence. It was in one of these early expeditions of the 
latter war that he first distinguished himself, being then under 
the orders of a Colonel Brom FoUock, who was the father of 
Major Dirck of the same name, and who was almost as great a 
friend of my grandfather as the son was of my own parent. 
This Colonel Brom loved a carouse, and I have heard it said 
that, getting among the High Dutch on the Mohawk, he kept 
it up for a week, with little or no intermission, under circum- 
stances that involved much military negligence. The result 
was, that a party of Canada Indians made an inroad on his com- 
mand, and the old colonel, who was as bold as a lion, and as 
drunk as a lord, though why lords are supposed to be particu- 
larly inclined to drink I never could tell, was both shot down 
and scalped early one morning as he was returning from an 
adjacent tavern to his quarters in the "garrison," where he 
was stationed. My grandfather nobly revenged his death, 
scattering to the four winds the invading party, and receiving 
the mutilated body of his friend, though the scalp was irretriev- 
ably lost. 

General Littlepage did not survive the war, though it was 
not his good fortune to die on the field, thus identifying his 
name with the history of his country. It happens in all wars, 
and most especially did it often occur in our own great national 



14 THE CHAIN BEARER. 

struggle, that more soldiers lay down their lives in the hospi- 
tals than on the field of battle, though the shedding of blood 
seems an indispensable requisite to glory of this nature ; an 
ungrateful posterity taking little heed of the thousands who 
pass into another state of being, the victims of exposure and 
camp diseases, to sound the praises of the hundreds who are 
slain amid the din of battle. Yet, it may be questioned if it 
do not require more true courage to face death, when he ap- 
proaches in the invisible form of disease, than to meet him 
when openly arrayed under the armed hand. My grandfather's 
conduct in remaining in camp, among hundreds of those who 
had the smallpox, the loathsome malady of which he died, was 
occasionally alluded to, it is true, but never in the manner the 
death of an oflScer of his rank would have been mentioned, had 
he fallen in battle. I could see that Major Follock had an hon- 
orable pride in the fate of his father, who was slain and scalped 
by the enemy in returning from a drunken carouse, while my 
worthy parent ever referred to the death of the brigadier as an 
event to be deplored, rather than exulted in. For my own 
part, I think my grandfather's end was much the most credit- 
able of the two ; but, as such, it will never be viewed by the 
historian, or the country. As for historians, it requires a man 
to be singularly honest to write against a prejudice ; and it is 
so much easier to celebrate a deed as it is imagined than as it 
actually occurred, that I question if we know the truth of a 
tenth part of the exploits about which we vapor, and in which 
we fancy we glory. Well ! we are taught to believe that the 
time will come when all things are to be seen in their true 
colors, and when men and deeds will be known as they actu- 
ally were, rather than as they have been recorded in the pages 
of history. 

I was too young myself to take much part in the war of the 
revolution, though accident made me an eye -witness of some 
of its most important events, and that at the tender age of 
fifteen. At twelve — the American intellect ever was and con- 
tinues to be singularly precocious — I was sent to Nassau Hall, 



THE CHAINBEARER. 15 

Princeton, to be educated, and I remained there until I finally- 
got a degree, though it was not without several long and rudo 
interruptions of my studies. Although so early sent to col- 
lege, I did not actually graduate until I was nineteen, the 
troubled times requiring nearly twice as long a servitude to 
make a Bachelor of Arts of me as would have been necessary 
in the more halcyon days of peace. Thus I made a fragment 
of a campaign when only a sophomore, and another the first 
year I was junior. I say the first year, because I was obliged 
to pass two years in each of the two higher classes of the insti- 
tution, in order to make up for lost time. A youth cannot 
very well be campaigning and studying Euclid in the academic 
bowers, at the same moment. Then I was so young, that a 
year, more or less, was of no great moment. 

My principal service in the war of the revolution was in 1777, 
or in the campaign in which Burgoyne was met and captured. 
That important service was performed by a force that was com- 
posed partly of regular troops, and partly of militia. My grand- 
father commanded a brigade of the last, or what was called a 
brigade, some six hundred men at most ; while my father led a 
regular battalion of one hundred and sixty troops of the New 
York line into the German intrenchments, the memorable and 
bloody day the last were stormed. How many he brought out 
I never heard him say. The way in which I happened to be 
present in these important scenes is soon told. 

Lilacsbush being on the Island of Manhattan (not Manhattan 
Island, be it always remembered), and our family being whig, 
we were driven from both our town and country houses the 
moment Sir William Howe took possession of New York. At 
first my mother was content with merely going to Satanstoc, 
which was only a short distance from the enemy's lines ; but 
the political character of the Littlepages being too well estab- 
lished to render this a safe residence, my grandmother and 
mother, always accompanied by Miss Wallace, went up above 
the Highlands, where they established themselves in the village 
of Fishkill for the remainder of the war, on a farm that belonged 



16 THE CIIAINBEARER. 

to Miss AVallace in fee. Here it was tlioiigLt they were safe, 
being seventy miles from the capital, and quite within the 
American lines. As this removal took place at the close of the 
year 1776, and after independence had been declared, it was 
miderstood that our return to our proper homes at all, depended 
on the result of the war. At that time I was a sophomore, 
and at home in the long vacation. It was in this visit that I 
made my fragment of a campaign, accompanying my father 
through all the closing movements of his regiment, wdiile Wash- 
ington and Howe were manoeuvring in Westchester. My fa- 
ther's battalion happening to be posted in such a manner as to be 
in the centre of the battle at White Plains, I had an opportunity 
of seeing some pretty serious service on that occasion. Nor did 
I quit the army and return to my studies, until after the bril- 
liant affairs at Trenton and Princeton, in both of which our 
regiment participated. 

This was a pretty early commencement with the things of 
active life for a boy of fourteen. But in that war, lads of my 
age often carried muskets, for the colonies covered a gi'eat ex' 
tent of country, and had but few people. They who read of 
the war of the American revolution, and view its campaigns and 
battles as they would regard the conflicts of older and more 
advanced nations, can form no just notion of the disadvantages 
with which our people had to contend, or the great superiority 
of the enemy in all the usual elements of military force. With- 
out experienced officers, with but few and indifferent arms, often in 
want of ammunition, the rural and otherwise peaceful population 
of a thinly peopled country were brought in conflict with the 
chosen warriors of Europe ; and this, too, with little or none of 
that great sinew of war, money, to sustain them. Nevertheless 
the Americans, unaided by any foreign skill or succor, were 
about as often successful as the reverse. Bunker Hill, Benning- 
ton, Saratoga, Bhemis' Heights, Trenton, Princeton, Monmouth, 
were all purely American battles ; to say nothing of divers 
others that occurred farther south : and though insignificant as 
to numbers, compared with the conflicts of these later times, 



THE CHAINBEARER. 17 

each is worthy of a place in history, and one or two are ahuost 
without parallels ; as is seen when Bunker Hill be named. It 
sounds very well in a dispatch, to swell out the list of an ene- 
my's ranks ; but admitting the number itself not to be over- 
rated, as so often occurred, of what avail are men without arms 
and ammunition, and frequently without any other military 
organization than a muster-roll ! 

I have said I made nearly the whole of the campaign in 
which Burgoyne was taken. It happened in this wise. The 
service of the previous year had a good deal indisposed me to 
study, and when again at home in the autumn vacation, my 
dear mother sent me with clothing and supplies to my father, 
who was with the army at the north. I reached the head-quar- 
ters of General Gates a week before the affair of Bhemis' 
Heights, and was with my father until the capitulation was 
completed. Owing to these circumstances, though still a boy 
in years, I was an eye-witness, and in some measure an actor in 
two or three of the most important events in the whole war. 
Being well grown for my years, and of a somewhat manly ap- 
pearance, considering how young I really was, I passed very 
well as a volunteer, being, I have reason to think, somewhat of a 
favorite in the regiment. In the last battle, I had the honor to 
act as a sort of aide-de-camp to my grandfather, who sent me 
with orders and messages two or three times into the midst of 
the fire. In this manner I made myself a little known, and all 
so much the more from the circumstance of my being in fact 
nothing but a college lad, away from his alma mater during 
vacation. 

It was but natural that a boy thus situated should attract 
some little attention, and I was noticed by officers, who, under 
other circumstances, would hardly have felt it necessary to go 
out of their way to speak to me. The Littlepages had stood 
well, I have reason to think, in the colony, and their position 
in the new state was not likely to be at all lowered by the part 
they were now playing in the revolution. I am far from certain 
that General Littlepage was considered a corner-post in the 



18 THE C II A I N B E A K E II . 

Temple of Freedom that tlie army was endeavoring to rear, but 
he was quite respectable as a militia officer, while my father 
was very generally admitted to be one of the best lieutenants- 
colonel in the whole army. 

I well remember to have been much struck with a captain in 
my father's regiment, who certainly was a character, in his way. 
His origin was Dutch, as was the case with a fair proportion 
of the officers, and he bore the name of Andries Coejemans, 
though he was universally known by the sobriquet of the 
" Chainbearer." It was fortunate for him it was so, else would 
the Yankees in the camp, who seem to have a mania to pro- 
nounce every word as it is spelled, and having succeeded in 
this, to change the spelling of the whole language to accom- 
modate it to certain sounds of their own inventing, would have 
given hira a most unpronounceable appellation. Heaven only 
knows what they would have called Captain Coejemans, but for 
this lucky nickname ; but it may be as well to let the uninitiated 
understand at once, that in New York parlance, Coejemans is 
called Queemans. The Chainbearer was of a respectable Dutch 
family, one that has even given its queer-looking name to a 
place of some little note on the Hudson ; but, as was very apt 
to be the case with the cadets of such houses, in the good old 
time of the colony, his education was no great matter. His 
means had once been respectable, but, as he always maintained, 
he was cheated out of his substance by a Yankee before he was 
three-and-twenty, and he had recourse to surveying for a living 
from that time. But Andries had no head for mathematics, 
and after making one or two notable blunders in the way of his 
new profession, he quietly sunk to the station of a Chainbearer, 
in which capacity he was known to all the leading men of his 
craft in the colony. It is said that every man is suited to somo 
pursuit or other, in which he might acquire credit, would he 
only enter on it and persevere. Thus it proved to be with 
Andries Coejemans. As a chainbearer he had an unrivalled 
reputation. Humble as was the occupation, it admitted of 
excellence in various particulars, as well as another. In the 



THE CHAINBEARER. 19 

first place, it required honesty, a quality in which this class of 
men can fail, as well as all the rest of mankind. Neither colony 
nor patentee, landlord nor tenant, buyer nor seller, need be 
uneasy about being fairly dealt by so long as Andries Coeje- 
mans held the forward end of the chain ; a duty on which he 
was invariably placed by one party or the other. Then, a 
practical eye was a great aid to positive measurement ; and 
while Andries never swerved to the right or to the left of his 
course, having acquired a sort of instinct in his calling, much 
time and labor were saved. In addition to these advantages, 
the " Chainbearer" had acquired great skill in all the subordi- 
nate matters of his calling. He was a capital woodman, gen- 
erally ; had become a good hunter, and had acquired most of 
the habits that pursuits like those in which he was engaged foi 
so many years previously to entering the army, would be likely 
to give a man. In the course of time, he took patents to sur- 
vey, employing men with heads better than his own to act a» 
principals, while he still carried the chain. 

At the commencement of the revolution, Andries, like most 
of those who sympathized with the colonies, took up arms. 
When the regiment of which my father was the lieutenant- 
colonel was raised, they who could bring to its colors so many 
men received commissions of a rank proportioned to their 
services in this respect. Andries had presented himself early 
with a considerable squad of chainbearers, hunters, trappers, 
runners, guides, etc., numbering in the whole something like 
five-and-twenty hardy, resolute sharpshooters. Their leader 
was made a lieutenant in consequence, and being the oldest of 
his rank in the corps, he was shortly after promoted to a cap- 
taincy, the station he was in when I made his acquaintance, 
and above which he never rose. 

Revolutions, more especially such as are of a popular char- 
acter, are not remarkable for bringing forward those w^ho are 
highly educated, or otherwise fitted for their new stations, un- 
less it may be on the score of zeal. It is true, service generally 
classes men, bringing out their qualities, and necessity soon 



20 THE CHAINBEAREH. 

compels the preferment of those who are the best qualified. 
Our own great national struggle, however, probably did less of 
tliis than any similar event of modern times, a respectable 
mediocrity having accordingly obtained an elevation that, as a 
rule, it was enabled to keep to the close of the war. It is a 
singular fact that not a solitary instance is to be found in our 
military annals of a young soldier's rising to high command, by 
the force of his talents, in all that struggle. This may have 
been, and in a measure probably loas owing to the opinions of 
the people, and to the circumstance that the service itself was 
one that demanded greater prudence and circumspection than 
qualities of a more dazzling nature ; or the qualifications of age 
and experience, rather than those of youth and enterprise. It 
is probable Andries Coejemans, on the score of original station, 
was rather above than below the level of the social positions of 
a majority of the subalterns of the different lines of the more 
northern colonies, when he first joined the army. It is true, 
his education was not equal to his birth; for, in that day, 
except in isolated instances and particular families, the Dutch 
of New York, even in cases in which money was not wanting, 
were any thing but scholars. In this particular, our neighbors 
the Yankees had greatly the advantage of us. They sent every 
body to school, and, though their educations were principally 
those of smatterers, it is an advantage to be even a smatterer 
among the very ignorant. Andries had been no student either, 
and one may easily imagine what indifferent cultivation will 
effect on a naturally thin soil. He could read and write, it is 
true, but it was the ciphering under which he broke down, 
as a surveyor. I have often heard him say, that " if land 
could be measured without figures, he would turn his back on 
no man in the calling in all America, unless it might be ' Ilis 
Excellency,' who, he made no doubt, was not only the best, but 
the honestest sui-veyor mankind had ever enjoyed." 

The circumstance that Washington had practised the art of a 
surveyor for a short time in his early youth, was a source of 
great exultation with Andries Coejemans. He felt that it was 



THE CHAINBEARER. 21 

an honor to be even a subordinate in a pursuit in wbicli such 
a man was a principal. I remember, that long after we were 
at Saratoga together, Captain Coejemans, while we were before 
Yorktown, pointed to the commander-in-chief one day, as the 
latter rode past our encampment, and cried out, with emphasis 
— "T'ere, Mortaunt, my poy — t'ere goes His Excellency! 
— It would be t'e happiest tay of my life, coult I only carr}' 
chain while he survey't a pit of a farm, in this neighborpoot." 

Andries was more or less Dutch in his dialect, as he was 
more or less interested. In general, he spoke English pretty 
well — colony English I mean, not that of the schools ; though 
he had not a single Yankeeism in his vocabulary. On this last 
point, he prided himself greatly, feeling an honest pride, if he 
did occasionally use vulgarisms, a vicious pronunciation, or 
mako a mistake in the meaning of a word, a sin he was a little 
apt to commit ; and that his faults were all honest New York 
mistakes, and no '' New England gipperish." In the course 
of the various visits I paid to the camp, Andries and myself 
became quite intimate, his peculiarities seizing my fancy ; and 
doubtless, my obvious admiration awakening his gratitude. In 
the course of our many conversations, he gave me his whole 
history, commencing with the emigration of the Coejemans 
from Holland, and ending with our actual situation, in the 
camp at Saratoga. Andries had been often engaged, and, 
before the war terminated, I could boast of having been at his 
side in no less than six affairs myself, viz. : White Plains, Tren- 
ton, Princeton, Bhemis' Heights, Monmouth, and Brandy- 
wine ; for I had stolen away from college to be present at the 
last affair. The circumstance that our regiment was both with 
"Washington and Gates, was owing to the noble qualities of the 
former, who sent off" some of his best troops to reinforce his 
rival, as things gathered to a head at the north. Then I was 
present throughout, at the siege of Yorktown. But it is not 
my intention to enlarge on my own military services. 

While at Saratoga, I was much struck with the air, position 
and deportment of a gentleman who appeared to command the 



22 TIIECIIAINBEARER. 

respect, and to obtain tlie ears of all the leaders in the Amer- 
ican camp, while he held no apparent official station. He wore 
no uniform, though he was addressed by the title of general, 
and had much more of the character of a real soldier than Gates, 
who commanded. He must have been between forty and fifty 
at that time, and in the full enjoyment of the vigor of his mind 
and body. This was Philip Schuyler, so justly celebrated in 
our annals for his wisdom, patriotism, integrity, and public 
services. His connection with the great northern campaign is 
too well known to require any explanations here. Its success, 
perhaps, was more owing to his advice and preparations than 
to the influence of any one other mind, and he is beginning 
already to take a place in history, in connection with these 
great events, that has a singular resemblance to that he occupied 
during their actual occurrence : in other words, he is to be seen 
in the background of the great national picture, unobtrusive 
and modest, but directing and controlling all, by the power of 
his intellect, and the influence of his experience and character. 
Gates* was but a secondary personage, in the real events of that 
memorable period. Schuyler was the presiding spirit, though 
forced by popular prejudice to retire from the apparent com- 
mand of the army. Our written accounts ascribe the difficulty 
that worked this injustice to Schuyler, to a prejudice which 
existed among the eastern militia, and which is supposed to 
have had its origin in the disasters of St. Clair ; or the reverses 
which attended the earlier movements of the campaign. My 
father, who had known General Schuyler in the war of ''b^y 
when he acted as Bradstreet's right-hand man, attributed the 
feeling to a diff'erent cause. According to his notion of the 
alienation, it was owing to the diff'erence in habits and opinions 
which existed between Schuyler, as a New York gentleman, and 
the yeomen of New England, who came out in 1777, imbued with 
all the distinctive notions of their very peculiar state of society. 

* It may not be amiss to remark, ir. paseing, that Horace Walpole, in one of hi3 
recently published letters, speaks of a Horatio Gates as his godson. Walpole was 
born in 171S, and Gates in 172S. 



THE CIIAINBEARER. 23 

There may liave been prejudices on both sides, but it is easy 
to see which party exhibited most magnanimity and self-sacri- 
fice. Possibly, the last was inseparable from the preponderance 
of numbers, it not being an easy thing to persuade masses of 
men that they can be wrong, and a single individual right. 
This is the great error of democracy, which fancies truth is to 
be proved by counting noses ; while aristocracy commits the 
ar tagonist blunder of believing that excellence is inherited from 
male to male, and that too in the order of primogeniture ! It 
is not easy to say where one is to look for truth in this life. 

As for General Schuyler, I have thought my father was right 
in ascribing his unpopularity solely to the prejudices of provinces. 
The Muse of History is the most ambitious of the whole sister- 
hood, and never thinks she has done her duty unless all she 
says and records is said and recorded with an air of profound 
philosophy ; whereas, more than half of the greatest events 
which affect human interest, are to be referred to causes that 
have little connection with our boasted intelligence, in any 
shape. Men feel far more than they reason, and a little feeling 
is very apt to upset a great deal of philosophy. 

It has been said that I passed six years at Princeton ; nomi- 
nally, if not in fact ; and that I graduated at nineteen. This 
happened the year Comwallis surrendered, and I actually served 
at the siege as the youngest ensign in my father's battalion. I 
had also the happiness, for such it was to me, to be attached 
to the company of Captain Coejemans, a circumstance which 
clenched the friendship I had formed for that singular old man. 
T say old, for by this time Andries was every hour of sixty- 
seven, though as hale, and hearty, and active, as any officer in 
the corps. As for hardships, forty years of training, most of 
which had been passed in the woods, placed him quite at our 
head, in the way of endurance. 

I loved my predecessors, grandfather and grandmother in- 
cluded, not only as a matter of course, but with sincere filial 
attachment ; and I loved Miss Mary Wallace, or aunt Mary, as 
[ had been taught to call her, quite as much on account of her 



24 THE CIIAINBEARER. 

quiet, gentle, affectionate manner, as from liaLit ; and I loved 
Major Dirck FoUock as a sort of hereditary friend, as a distant 
relative, and a good and careful guardian of my own youth, and 
inexperience on a thousand occasions ; and I loved my father's 
negro man, Jaap, as we all love faithful slaves, however unnur- 
tured they may be ; but Andries was the man whom I loved 
without knowing why. He was illiterate almost to greatness, 
having the drollest notions imaginable of this earth and all it 
contained ; was any thing but refined in deportment, though 
hearty and frank ; had prejudices so crammed into his moral 
system that there did not seem to be room for any thing else ; 
and was ever so little addicted, moreover, to that species of 
Dutch jollification, which had cost old Colonel Van Valken- 
burgh his life, and a love for which was a good deal spread 
throughout the colony. Nevertheless, I really loved this man, 
and when we were all disbanded at the peace, or in 1783, by 
which time I had myself risen to the rank of captain, I actual- 
ly parted from old Andries with tears in my eyes. My grand- 
father. General Littlepage, was then dead, but government 
giving to most of us a step, by means of brevet rank, at the 
final breaking up of the army, my father, who had been the 
full colonel of the regiment for the last year, bore the title of 
brigadier for the remainder of his days. It was pretty much all 
he got for seven years of dangers and arduous services. But 
the country was poor, and we had fought more for principles 
than for the hope of rewards. It must be admitted that Amer- 
ica ought to be full of philosophy, inasmuch as so much of her 
system of rewards and even of punishments, is purely theoret 
ical, and addressed to the imagination, or to the qualities of 
the mind. Thus it is, that we contend with all our enemies on 
very unequal grounds. The Englishman has his knighthood, 
his baronetcies, his peerages, his orders, his higher ranks in the 
professions, his batons^ and all the other venial inducements of 
our corrupt nature to make him fight, while the American is 
goaded on to glory by the abstract considerations of virtue and 
patriotism. After all, we flog quite as often as we are flogged, 



THECHAINBEARER. 25 

wliicli is the main interest affected. While on this subject 1 
will remark that Andries Coejemans never assumed the empty 
title of major, which was so graciously bestowed on him by 
the Congress of 1783, but left the army a captain in name, 
without half-pay, or any thing but his military lot, to find a 
niece whom he was bringing up, and to pursue his old business 
of a " Chainbearer.'* 
2 



26 TBE CHAINBEARKB. 



CIIAPTER IL 

" A trusty villain, sir ; that very oft, 
When I am dull with care and melancholy, 
Lightens my humors with his many jests." 

Domino of Svsaousi:. 

It will be seen tliat, while I got a degree, and what is called 
an education, the latter was obtained by studies of a very de- 
sultory character. There is no question that learning of all 
sorts fell off sadly among us during the revolution and the 
twenty years that succeeded it. While colonies, we possessed 
many excellent instructors who came from Europe; but the 
supply ceased, in a great measure, as soon as the troubles com- 
menced; nor was it immediately renewed at the peace. I 
think it will be admitted that the gentlemen of the country 
began to be less well educated about the time I was sent to 
college, than had been the case for the previous half-century, 
and that the defect has not yet been repaired. What the 
country may do in the first half of the nineteenth century re- 
mains to be seen.* 

My connection with the army aided materially in weaning 
me from home, though few youths had as many temptations to 
return to the paternal roof as myself. There were my beloved 
mother and my grandmother, in the first place, both of whom 
doted on me as on an only son. Then aunt Mary almost equally 
shared in my affections. But I had two sisters, one of whom 
was older, and the other younger than myself. The eldest, 

* The reader will recollect that Mr. Mordaunt Littlepage must have written his 
account of himself and his times, about the close of the last, or the beginning of this 
century. Since that time, education has certainly advanced among us ; sophomores 
pursuing branches of learning to-day, that were sealed from seniors a few years since. 
Learning, however, advances in this country on the great American principle of 
imparting a little to a great many, instead of teaching a good deal to a few. — Editor. 



THE CHAINBEARER. 27 

who was called Anneke, after our dear mother, was even six 
years my senior, and was married early in the war to a gentle- 
man of the name of Kettletas. Mr. Kettletas was a person of 
very good estate, and made my sister perfectly happy. They 
had several children, and resided in Dutchess, which was an 
additional reason for my mother's choosing that county for her 
temporary residence. I regarded Anneke, or Mrs. Kettletas, 
much as all youths regard an elder sister, who is affectionate, 
feminine and respectable ; but little Katrinke, or Kate, was my 
pet. She again, was four years younger than myself; and as I 
was just two-and-twenty when the army was disbanded, she of 
course was only eighteen. This dear sister was a little, jump- 
ing, laughing, never-quiet, merry thing, when I had taken my 
leave of her, in 1781, to join the regiment as an ensign, as 
handsome and sweet as a rose-bud, and quite as full of promise. 
I remember that old Andries and I used to pass much of our 
time in camp, in conversing about our several pets ; he of his 
niece, and I of my younger sister. Of course, I never intended 
to marry, but Kate and I were to live together ; she as my 
housekeeper and companion, and I as her elder brother and 
protector. The one great good of life with us all was peace, 
with independence ; which obtained, no one, in our regiment 
at least, was so little of a patriot as to doubt of the future. It 
was laughable to see with how much gusto and simplicity the 
old Chainbearer entered into all these boyish schemes. His 
niece was an orphan, it would seem, the only child of an only 
but a half-sister, and was absolutely dependent on him for the 
bread she put into her mouth. It is true that this niece fared 
somewhat better than such a support would seem to promise, 
having been much cared for by a female friend of her mother's, 
who, being reduced herself, kept a school, and had thus 
bestowed on her ward a far better education than she could 
ever have got under her uncle's supervision, had the last possessed 
the riches of the Van Rensselaers, or of the Van Cortlandts. 
As has been substantially stated, old Andries' forte did not lie 
in education, and they who do not enjoy the blessings of such 



28 THE CUAINBEARER. 

a character, seldom duly appreciate their advantages. It is 
with the acquisitions of the mind, as with those of mere deport- 
ment and tastes ; we are apt to undervalue them all, until made 
familiarly acquainted with their power to elevate and to enlarge. 
But the niece of Andries had been particularly fortunate in fall- 
ing into the hands she had ; Mrs. Stratton having the means 
and the inclination to do all for her, in the way of instruction, 
that was then done for any young woman in New York, as long 
as she lived. The death of this kind friend occurring, however, 
in 1783, Andries was obliged to resume the care of his niece, 
who was now thrown entirely on himself for support. It is 
true, the girl wished to do something for herself, but this nei- 
ther the pride nor the aflfection of the old Chainbearer would 
listen to. 

" What can the gal do ?" Andries said to me significantly, 
one day that he was recounting all these particulars. "She 
can't carry chain, though I do believe, Morty, the chilt has 
head enough, and figures enough to survey ! It would do your 
heart good to read the account of her Tarnin' t'at t'e olt woman 
used to send me ; though she wrote so excellent a hant herself, 
t'at it commonly took me a week to read one of her letters ; 
that is, from 'Respected Friend' to 'Humble Sarvent,' as you 
know them 'ere t'ings go." 

"Excellent hand! Why, I should think, Andries, the better 
the hand, the easier one could read a letter." 

*' All a mistake. When a man writes a scrawl himself, it's 
nat'ral he shoult read scrawls easiest, in his own case. Now, 
Mrs. Stratton was home-taught, and would be likely to get into 
ways t'at a plain man might find diflScult to get along wit'." 

" Do you think, then, of making a surveyor of your niece ?" 
I asked, a little pointedly. 

" Why, she is hartly strong enough to travel t' rough the 
woots, and, the callin' is not suitaple to her sex, t'ough I 
woult risk her against t'e oldest calculator in t'e province." 

"We call New York a state, now, Captain Andries, you will 
recollect." 



THE CHAIKBEARER. 29 



** Ay, fat's true, and I peg the state's pardon. Well, t'ere'll 
be scrambling enougli for t'e land, as soon as tlie war is fairly 
over, and cliainbearing will be a sarviceable calUn', once more. 
Do you know, Morty, they talk of gifin' all of our line a quantity 
of land, privates and officers, which will make me a landholter 
again, the very character in which I started in life. You will 
inherit acres enough, and may not care so much apout owning 
a few huntret, more or less, but I own the idee is agreeaplc 
enough to me." 

*'Do you propose to commence anew as a husbandman?" 
"Not I; the pusiness never agreet wit' me, nor I wit' it. 
Put a man may survey his own lot, I suppose, and no of- 
fence to greater scholars. If I get t'e grant t'ey speak of, I 
shall set to work and run it out on my own account, and t'en 
we shall see who understants figures, and who don't ! If other 
people won't trust me, it is no reason I shoult not trust my- 
self." 

I knew that his having broken down in the more intellectual 
part of his calling was a sore point with old Andries, and I 
avoided dwelling on this part of the subject. In order to divert 
his mind to other objects, indeed, I began to question him a 
little more closely than I had ever done before, on the subject 
of his niece, in consequence of which expedient I now learned 
many things that were new to me. 

The name of the Chainbearer's niece was Duss Malbone, or 
so he always pronounced it. In the end I discovered that Duss 
was a sort of Dutch diminutive for Ursula. Ursula Malbone 
had none of the Coejemans blood in her, notwithstanding she 
was Andries' sister's daughter. It seemed that old Mrs. Coeje- 
mans was twice married, her second husband being the father 
of Duss's mother. Bob Malbone, as the Chainbearer always 
called the girl's father, was an eastern man of very good family, 
but was a reckless spendthrift, who married Duss the senior, as 
well as I could learn, for her property ; all of which, as well as 
that he had inherited himself, was cleverly gotten rid of within 
the first ten years of their union, and a year or two after the 



30 T U E C n A I N E E A R E R . 

girl was born. Botli father and motlier died within a few 
months of each other, and in a very happy moment as regards 
worldly means, leaving poor little Duss with no one to care for 
her but her half-uncle, who was then living in the forest in his 
regular pursuits, and the Mrs. Stratton I have m.entioned. 
There was a half-brother, Bob Malbone having mamed twice, 
but he was in the army, and had some near female relation to 
support out of his pay. Between the Chainbearer and Mrs. 
Stratton, with an occasional offering from the brother, the 
means of clothing, nourishing, and educating the young woman 
had been found until she reached her eighteenth year, when the 
death of her female protector threw her nearly altogether on 
the care of her uncle. The brother liow did his share, Andrics 
admitted ; but it was not much that he could do. A captain 
himself, his scanty pay barely sufficed to meet his own wants. 

I could easily see that old Andries loved Duss better than 
any thing else or any other person. "When he was a little 
mellow, and that was usually the extent of his debaucheries, 
he would prate about her to me until the tears came into his 
eyes, and once he actually proposed that I should marry her. 

"You woult just suit each other," the old man added, in a 
very quaint, but earnest manner, on that memorable occasion ; 
" and as for property, I know you care little for money, and will 
have enough for half-a-tozen. I swear to you. Captain Little- 
page" — for this dialogue took place only a few months before 
we were disbanded, and after I had obtained a company — '* I 
swear to you. Captain Littlepage, t'e girl is laughing from 
morning till night, and would make one of the merriest com- 
panions for an olt soldier that ever promiset to ' honor and 
opey.' Try her once, lad, and see if I teceive you." 

'' That may do well enough, friend Andries, for an old sol- 
dier, whereas you will remember I am but a boy in years " 

"Ay, in years; but olt as a soldier, Morty — olt as White 
Plains, or '76 ; as I know from hafin seen you unter fire." 

"Well, be it so ; but it is the man, and not the soldier, who 
is to do the marrying, and I am still a very young man." 



THE CHAINBEARER. 81 

*' You miglit do worse, take my word for it, Mortaunt, my 
dear poy ; for Duss is fun itself, and I have often spoken of you 
to lier in a way t'at will make the courtship as easy as carrying 
a chain on t'e Jarmen Flats." 

I assured my friend Andries that I did not think of a wife 
yet, and that my taste ran for a sentimental and melancholy 
young woman, rather than for a laughing girl. The old Chain* 
hearer took this repulse good-humoredly, though he renewed 
the attack at least a dozen times before the regiment was dis- 
banded, and we finally separated. I say finally separated, 
though it was in reference to our companionship as soldiers, 
rather than as to our future lives ; for I had determined to give 
Andries employment myself, should nothing better offer in his 
behalf. 

Nor was I altogether without the means of thus serving a 
friend, when the inclination existed. My grandfather, Herman 
Mordaunt, had left me, to come into possession at the age of 
twenty-one,' a considerable estate in what is now Washington 
county, a portion of our territory that lies north-east from Al- 
bany, and at no great distance from the Hampshire Grants. 
This property, of many thousands of acres in extent, had been 
partially settled under leases by himself, previously to my birth, 
and those leases having mostly expired, the tenants were re- 
maining at will, waiting for more quiet times to renew their 
engagements. As yet Ravensnest, for so the estate was called, 
had given the family little besides expense and trouble ; but the 
land being good, and the improvements considerable, it was 
time to look for some return for all our outlays. This estate 
was now mine in fee, my father having formally relinquished its 
possession in my favor the day I attained my majority. Adja- 
cent to this estate lay that of Mooseridge, which was the joint 
property of my-fathei* and of his friend Major — or as he was 
styled in virtue of the brevet rank granted at the peace — Colonel 
FoUock. Mooseridge had been originally patented by my 
grandfather, the first General Littlepage, and old Colonel Fol- 
lock, he who had been slain and scalped early in the war ; but 



32 THE CHAINBEARER. 

on tlie descent of his moiety of the tenantry in common to 
Dkck Follock, my grandfather conveyed his interest to his own 
son, who ere long must become its owner, agreeably to the laws 
of nature. This property had once been surveyed into large 
lots, but owing to some adverse circumstances, and the ap- 
proach of the troubles, it had never been settled, or surveyed 
into farms. All that its owners ever got for it, therefore, was 
the privilege of paying the crown its quit-rents ; taxes, or re- 
served payments, of no great amount, it is true, though far more 
than the estate had ever yet returned. 

"While on the subject of lands and tenements, I may as well 
finish my opening explanations. My paternal grandfather was 
by no means as rich as my father, though the senior, and of so 
much higher military rank. His property, or neck, of Satans- 
toe, nevertheless was quite valuable ; more for the quality of the 
land and its position, than for its extent. In addition to this, 
he had a few thousand pounds at interest ; stocks, banks, and 
moneyed corporations of all kinds being then nearly unknown 
among us. His means were sufficient for his wants, however, 
and it was a joyful day when he found himself enabled to take 
possession of his own house again, in consequence of Sir Guy 
Carleton's calling in all of his detachments from "Westchester. 
The Morrises, distinguished whigs as they were, did not get 
back to Morrisania until after the evacuation, which took place 
November 25, 1*783; nor did my father return to Lilacsbush 
until after that important event. The very year my grand- 
father saw Satanstoe, he took the smallpox in camp and died. 

To own the truth, the peace found us all very poor, as w^as 
the case with almost every body in the country but a few con- 
tractors. It was not the contractors for the American army 
that were rich ; they fared worse than most people ; but the few 
who furnished supplies to the French did get silver in return for 
their advances. As for the army, it was disbanded without any 
reward but promises, and payment in a currency that depre- 
ciated so rapidly that men were glad to spend recklessly their 
hard-earned stock, lest it should become perfectly valueless in 



THE CHAIN BEARER. 33 

their hands. T have heard much in later years of the celebrated 
Newburgli letters, and of the want of patriotism that could lead 
to their having been written. It may not have been wise, con- 
sidering the absolute want of the country, to have contemplated 
the alternative toward which those letters certainly cast an ob- 
lique glance, but there was nothing in either their execution or 
their drift which was not perfectly natural for the circumstances. 
It was quite right for Washington to act as he did in that crisis, 
though it is highly probable that even Washington would have 
felt and acted differently, had he nothing but the keen sense of 
his neglected services, poverty and forgetfulness before him, in 
the perspective. As for the young officer who actually wrote 
the letters, it is probable that justice will never be done to any 
part of his conduct, but that which is connected with the ele- 
gance of his diction. It is very well for those who do not suffer 
to prate about patriotism ; but a country is bound to be just, 
before it can lay a high moral claim to this exclusive devoted- 
ness to the interests of the majority. Fine words cost but 
little, and I acknowledge no great respect for those who mani- 
fest their integrity principally in phrases. This is said not in the 
way of personal apology, for our regiment did not happen to be 
at Newburgh at the disbandment ; if it had, I think my father's 
influence would have kept us from joining the malcontents; 
but at the same time, I fancy his and my own patriotism would 
have been much strengthened by the knowledge that there were 
such places as Satanstoe, Lilacsbush, Mooseridge, and Ravens- 
nest. To return to the account of our property. 

My grandfather Mordaunt, notwithstanding his handsome be- 
quests to me, left the bulk of his estate to my mother. This 
would have made the rest of the family rich, had it not been 
for the dilapidations produced by the war. But the houses and 
stores in town were without tenants who paid, having been 
mainly occupied by the enemy ; and interest on bonds was hard 
to collect from those who lived within the British lines. 

In a word, it is not easy to impress on the mind of one who 
witnesses the present state of the country, its actual condition 



34 THE CHAINBEARER. 

in that clay. As an incident tliat occurred to myself, after I 
had regularly joined the army for duty, -will afford a lively pic- 
ture of the state of things, I will relate it, and this the more 
willingly, as it will be the means of introducing to the reader 
an old friend of the family, and one who was intimately asso- 
ciated with divers events of my own life. I have spoken of 
Jaaf, a slave of my father's, and one of about his own time of 
life. At the time to which I allude, Jaaf was a middle-aged, 
gray-headed negro, with most of the faults, and with all the 
peculiar virtues of the beings of his condition and race. So 
much reliance had my mother, in particular, on his fidelity, 
that she insisted on his accompanying her husband to the wars, 
an order that the black most willingly obeyed ; not only because 
he loved adventure, but because he especially hated an Indian, 
and my father's earliest sei-vice was against that portion of our 
foes. Although Jaaf acted as a body-servant, he carried a 
musket, and even drilled with the men. Luckily, the Little- 
page livery was blue turned up with red, and of a very modest 
character ; a circumstance that almost put Jaaf in uniform, the 
fellow obstinately refusing to wear the colors of any power but 
that of the family to which he regularly belonged. In this 
manner, Jaaf had got to be a queer mixture of the servant and 
the soldier, sometimes acting in the one capacity, and some- 
times in the other, having at the same time not a little of the 
husbandman about him ; for our slaves did all sorts of work. 

My mother had made it a point that Jaaf should accompany 
me on all occasions when I was sent to any distance from my 
father. She naturally enough supposed I had the most need of 
the care of a faithful attendant, and the black had consequently 
o-ot to be about half transferred to me. He evidently liked this 
change, both because it was always accompanied by change of 
scene and the chances for new adventures, and because it gave 
him an opportunity of relating many of the events of his youth; 
events that had got to be worn threadbare, as narratives, with 
his " ole masser," but which were still fresh with his *' young." 
On the occasion to which there is allusion, Jaaf and I were 



THE CHAINBEARER. 36 

returning to camp, from an excursion of some length, on which 
I had been sent by the general of division. This was about the 
time the continental money made its final fall to nothing, or 
next to nothing, it having long stood at about a hundred dol- 
lars for one. I had provided myself with a little silver, and 
very precious it w^as, and some thirty or forty thousand dollars 
of "continental," to defray my travelling expenses; but my 
silver was expended, and the paper reduced to two or three 
thousand dollars, when it would require the whole stock of the 
latter to pay for Jaaf's and my own dinner ; nor were the inn- 
keepers very willing to give their time and food for it at any 
price. This vacuum in my purse took place when I had still 
two long days' ride before me, and in a part of the country 
where I had no acquaintances Avhatever. Supper and rest were 
needed for ourselves, and provender and stabling for our horses. 
Every thing of the sort was cheap enough, to be sure, but abso- 
lute want of means rendered the smallest charge impracticable 
to persons in our situation. As for appealing to the patriotism 
of those who lived by the way-side, it was too late in the war ; 
patriotism being a very evanescent quality of the human heart, 
and particularly addicted to sneaking, like compassion, behind 
some convenient cover, when it is to be maintained at any 
pecuniary cost. It will do for a capital, in a revolution, or a 
war for the first six months perhaps ; but gets to be as worth- 
less as continental money itself, by the end of that period. One 
militia draft has exhausted the patriotism of thousands of as 
disinterested heroes as ever shouldered muskets. 

" Jaap" — I asked of my companion, as we drew near to the 
hamlet where I intended to pass the night, and the comforts of 
a warm supper on a sharp frosty evening, began to haunt my 
imagination — " Jaap, how much money may you have about 
you?"* 

" I, Masser Mordaunt ! — Golly ! but dat a berry droll ques- 
tion, sah!" 

* This man is indiscriminately called Yaf, or Top— York Dutch being far from 
6cvere. 



36 THE CHAIN BEARER. 

** I ask, because my own stock is reduced to just one York 
sliilling, which goes by the name of only a ninepence in this 
part of the world." 

"Dat berry little, to tell'e truit', sah, for two gentleum, and 
two large, hungry bosses. Berry little, indeed, sah ! I wish he 
war' more." 

" Yet, I have not a copper more. I gave one thousand two 
hundred dollars for the dinner and baiting and oats, at noon." 

** Yes, sah — ^but dat conternental, sah, I supposes — no great 
t'ing, a'ter all." 

*' It's a great thing in sound, Jaap, but not much when it 
comes to the teeth, as you perceive. Nevertheless, we must 
eat and drink, and our nags must eat too — I suppose they may 
drink, without paying." 

" Yes, sah — dat true 'nough, yah — yah — yah" — how easily 
that negro laughed ! — "But 'e cider wonnerful good in dis part 
of 'e country, young masser ; just needer sweet nor sour — den 
he strong as 'e jackass." 

"Well, Jaap, how are we to get any of this good cider, of 
which you speak ?" 

"You t'ink, sah, dis part of 'e country been talk to much 
lately 'bout Patty Kism and 'e country, sah?" 

"I am afraid Patty has been overdone here, as well as in 
most other counties." 

I may observe here, that Jaap always imagined the beautiful 
creature he had heard so much extolled, and commended for 
her comeliness and virtue, was a certain young woman of this 
name, with whom all Congress was unaccountably in love at the 
same time. 

" Well, den, sah, dere no hope, but our wits. Let me be 
masser to-night, and you mind ole Jaap, if he want good supper. 
Jest ride ahead, Masser Mordaunt, and give he order like 
General Littlepage son, and leave it all to ole Jaap." 

As there was not much to choose, I did ride on, and soon 
ceased to hear the hoofs of the negro's horse at my heels. I 
reached the inn an hour ere Jaap appeared, and was actually 



THE CHAINBEARER. ' 37 

seated at a capital supper before lie rode up, as one belonging 
only to himself. Jaap bad taken off the Littlepage emblems, 
and bad altogether a most independent air. His horse was 
stabled alongside of mine, and I soon found that ho himself 
was at work on the remnants of my supper, as they retreated 
toward the kitchen. 

A traveller of my appearance was accommodated with the 
best parlor, as a matter of course; and having appeased my 
appetite, I sat down to read some documents that were con- 
nected with the duty I was on. No one could have imagined 
that I had only a York shilling, which is a Pennsylvania *' levy," 
or a Connecticut *'ninepence," in my purse; for my air was 
that of one who could pay for all he wanted, the certainty that, 
in the long run, my host could not be a loser, giving me a 
proper degree of confidence. I had just got through with the 
documents, and was thinking how I should employ the hour or 
two that remained until it would be time to go to bed, when I 
heard Jaap tuning his fiddle in the bar-room. Like most 
negroes, the fellow had an ear for music, and had been indulged 
in his taste, until he pla3'^ed as well as half the country fiddlers 
that were to be met. 

The sound of a fiddle in a small hamlet, of a cool October 
evening was certain of its result. In half an hour the smiling 
landlady came to invite me to join the company, with the grate- 
ful information I should not want for a partner, the prettiest 
girl in the place having come in late, and being still unprovided 
for. On entering the bar-room, I was received with plenty of 
awkward bows and curtsies, but with much simple and well- 
meaning hospitality. Jaap's own salutations were very elabo- 
rate, and altogether of a character to prevent the suspicion of 
our ever having met before. 

The dancing continued for more than two hours, with spirit, 
when the time admonished the village maidens of the necessity 
of retiring. Seeing an indication of the approaching separa- 
tion, Jaap held out his hat to me, in a respectful manner, when 
I magnificently dropped my shilling into it, in a way to attract 



38 THE CHAINBEAIIER. 

attention, and passed it around among the males of the party. 
One other gave a shilling, two clubbed and actually produced a 
quarter, several threw in sixpences, or fourpence-halfpennies, 
and coppers made up the balance. By way of climax, the 
landlady, who was good-looking and loved dancing, publicly 
announced that the fiddler and his horse should go scot free, 
until he left the place. By these ingenious means of Jaap's, I 
found in my purse next morning seven-and-sixpence in silver, 
in addition to my own shilling, besides coppers enough to keep 
a negro in cider for a week. 

I have often laughed over Jaap's management, though I 
would not permit him to repeat it. Passing the house of a 
man of better condition than common, I presented myself to 
its owner, though an entire stranger to him, and told him my 
story. Without asking any other confirmation than my word, 
this gentleman lent me five silver dollars, which answered all my 
present purposes, and which, I trust, it is scarcely necessary to 
say, were duly repaid. 

It was a happy hour to me when I found myself a titular 
major, but virtually a freeman, and at liberty to go where I 
pleased. The war had offered so little of variety or adven- 
ture, since the capture of Cornwallis and the pendency of the 
negotiations for pe^ce, that I began to tire of the army; and 
now that the country had triumphed, was ready enough to quit 
it. The family, that is to say, my grandmother, mother, aunt 
Mary and my youngest sister, took possession of Satanstoe in 
time to enjoy some of its delicious fruits in the autumn of 
1782 ; and early in the following season, after the treaty was 
signed, but while the British still remained in town, my mother 
was enabled to return to Lilacsbush. As consequences of these 
early movements, my father and myself, when we joined the 
two families, found things in a better state than might other- 
wise have been the case. The Neck was planted, and had 
enjoyed the advantage of a spring's husbandry, while the 
grounds of Lilacsbush had been renovated and brought in good 
condition by the matured and practised taste of my admirable 



THE CHAINBEARER. 39 

motlier. And slie was admirable, in all the relations of life ! 
A lady in feeling and habits, whatever she touched or control- 
led imbibed a portion of her delicacy and sentiment. Even 
the inanimate things around her betrayed this feature of their 
connection with one of her sex's best qualities. I remember 
tha»^; Colonel Dirck Follock remarked to me one day that we 
had been examining the offices together, something that was 
very applicable to this trait in my mother's character, while it 
w^as perfectly just. 

** No one can see Mrs. Littlepage's kitchen, even," he said, 
*' alt'ough she never seems to enter it, without perceiving" — or 
* perceifing,' as he pronounced the word — " that it is governed 
by a lady. There are plenty of kitchens that are as clean, 
and as large and as well furnished, but it is not common to see 
a kitchen that gives the same ideas of a good taste in the table, 
and about the household." 

If this was true as to the more homely parts of the habita- 
tion, how much truer was it when the distinction was carried 
into the superior apartments ! There, one saw my mother in 
person, and surrounded by those appliances which denote re- 
finement, without, however, any of that elaborate luxury of 
which we read in older countries. In America, we had much 
fine china, and a good deal of massive plate, regular dinner- 
services excepted, previously to the revolution, and my mother 
had inherited more than was usual of both; but the country 
knew little of that decree of domestic indulojence which is fast 
creeping in among us, by means of its enormously increased 
commerce. 

Although the fortunes of the country had undergone so much 
waste during seven years of internal warfare, the elasticity of a 
young and vigorous nation soon began to repair the evil. It is 
true that trade did not fully revive, nor its connecting interests 
receive their great impulse, until after the adoption of the 
Constitution, which brought the states under a set of common 
custom -house regulations ; nevertheless, one year brought about 
a manifest and most beneficent change. There was noAv some 



40 THE CHAINBEARER. 

security in making shipments, and the country immediately 
felt the consequences. The year 1784 was a sort of breathing- 
time for the nation, though long ere it was past the bone and 
sinew of the republic began to make themselves apparent and 
felt. Then it was that, as a people, this community first 
learned the immense advantage it had obtained by controlling 
its own interests, and by treating them as secondary to those 
of no other part of the world. This was the great gain of all 
our labors. 



THE CHAIN BEARER. 41 



CHAPTER III. 

" He tells her something, 
That makes her blood look out ; good sooth, sho is 
The qaeen of curds and cream." 

■Winter's Tale. 

Happy, tappy Lilacsbusli ! Never can I forget the delight 
with which I roamed over its heights and glens, and how I 
rioted in the pleasure of feeling I was again a sort of master 
in those scenes which had been the haunts of my boyhood ! 
It was in the spring of 1784 before I was folded to the arms 
of my mother ; and this, too, after a separation of near two 
years. Kate laughed, and wept, and hugged me, just as she 
would have done five years earlier, though she was now a lovely 
young woman, turned of nineteen. As for aunt Mary, she 
shook hands, gave me a kind kiss or two, and smiled on me 
affectionately, in her own quiet, gentle manner. The house 
was in a tumult, for Jaap returned with me, his wool well 
sprinkled with gray, and there were lots of little Satanstoes (for 
such was his family name, notwithstanding Mrs. Jaap called 
herself Miss Lilacsbush), children and grandchildren, to welcome 
him. To say the truth, the house was not decently tranquil for 
the first twenty-four hours. 

At the end of that time I ordered my horse, to ride across 
the country to Satanstoe, in order to visit my widowed grand- 
mother, who had resisted all attempts to persuade her to give 
up the cares of housekeeping, and to come and live at Lilacs- 
bush. The general, for so every body now called my father, 
did not accompany me, having been at Satanstoe a day or two 
before ; but my sister did. As the roads had been much neg- 
lected in the war, we went in the saddle, Kate being one of the 
most spirited horsewomen of my acquaintance. By this time, 



42 THE CHAINBEARER. 

Jaap had got to be privileged, doing just such work as suited 
his fancy ; or, it might he better to say, was not of much use 
except iu the desultory employments that had so long been his 
principal pursuits ; and he was sent off an hour or two before 
we started ourselves, to let Mrs. Littlepage, or his ** ole — ole 
missus," as the fellow always called my grandmother, know 
whom she was to expect to dinner. 

I have heard it said that there are portions of the world in 
which people get to be so sophisticated, that the nearest of kin 
cannot take such a liberty as this. The son will not presume 
to take a plate at the table of the father without observing the 
ceremony of asking, or of being asked ! Heaven be praised ! 
we have not yet reached this pass in America. What parent, 
or grandparent, to the remotest living generation, would receive 
a descendant with any thing but a smile, or a welcome, let him 
come when and how he will. If there be not room, or prepa- 
ration, the deficiencies must be made up in welcomes ; or, when 
absolute impossibilities interpose, if they are not overcome by 
means of a quick invention, as most such "impossibilities" are, 
the truth is frankly told, and the pleasure is deferred to a more 
fortunate moment. It is not my intention to throw a vulgar 
and ignorant jibe into the face of an advanced civilization, as is 
too apt to be the propensity of ignorance and provincial habits; 
for I well know that most of the usages of those highly im- 
proved conditions of society are founded in reason, and have 
their justification in a cultivated common sense ; but, after all, 
mother nature has her rights, and they are not to be invaded 
too boldly, without bringing with the acts themselves their 
merited punishments. 

It was just nine, on a fine May morning, when Kate Little- 
page and myself rode through the outer gate of Lilacsbush, 
and issued upon the old, well-known Kingsbridge road. Kings^ 
bridge ! That name still remains, as do those of the counties 
of Kings and Queens, and Duchess, to say nothing of quantities 
of Princes this and that in other states ; and I hope they always 
may remain, as so many landmarks in our history. These 



THECIIAINBEAREK. 43 

names are all that now remain among us of tlie monarcliy ; and yet 
have I heard my father say a hundred times, that when a young 
man his reverence for the British throne was second only to his 
reverence for the church. In how short a time has this feeling 
been changed throughout an entire nation; or, if not absolutely 
changed, for some still continue to reverence monarchy, how 
widely and irremediably has it been impaired ! Such are the 
things of the world, perishable and temporary in their very na- 
tures ; and they would do well to remember the truth, who 
have much at stake in such changes. 

We stopped at the door of the inn at Kingsbridge to say 
good morning to old Mrs. Light, the landlady who had now 
kept the house half a century, and who had known us, and our 
parents before us, from childhood. This loquacious housewife 
had her good and bad points, but habit had given her a sort of 
claim on our attentions, and I could not pass her door without 
drawing the rein, if it were only for a moment. This was no 
sooner done, than the landlady in person was on her threshold 
to greet us. 

"Ay, I dreamt this, Mr. Mordaunt," the old woman ex- 
claimed, the instant she saw me — *' I dreamt this no later than last 
week ! It is nonsense to deny it ; dreams do often come true !" 

"And what has been your dream this time, Mrs. Light 2" I 
asked, well knowing it was to come, and the sooner we got it 
the better. 

" I dreamt the general had come home last fall, and he had 
come home ! Now the only idee I had to help out that dream 
was a report that he ivas to be home that day ; but you know, Mr, 
Mordaunt, or Major Littlepage, they tell me I ought now to call 
you — ^but you know, Mr. Mordaunt, how often reports turn out 
to be nothing. I count a report as no great help to a dream. 
So, last week, I dreamed you would certainly be home this 
week ; and here you are, sure enough !" 

"And all without any lying report to help you, my good 
landlady?" 

" Why, no great matter ; a few flying rumors, perhaps ; but 



44 THE C II A I NB BARER. 

as I never believe them when awake, it's onreasonable to sup- 
pose a body would believe 'em when asleep. Yes, Jaaf stopped 
a minute to water his horse this morning, and I foresaw from 
that moment my dream would come to be true, though I never 
exchanged a word with the nigger." 

** That is a little remarkable, Mrs. Light, as I supposed you 
always exchanged a few words Avith your guests." 

" Not with the blacks, major ; it's apt to make 'em sassy. 
Sassiness in a nigger is a thing I can't abide, and therefore I 
keep 'em all at a distance. Well, the times that I have seen, 
major, since you went off to the wars I and the changes we 
have had ! Our clergyman don't pray any longer for the king 
and queen — no more than if there wasn't sich people living." 

" Not directly, perhaps, but as a part of the church of God, 
I trust. We all pray for Congress now." 

*' Well, I hope good will come out of it ! I must say, major, 
that His Majesty's officers spent more freely, and paid in better 
money, than the continental gentlemen. I've had 'em both 
here by rijjiments, and that's the character 1 7nust give 'em, in 
honesty." 

" You will remember they were richer, and had more money 
than our people. It is easy for the rich to appear liberal." 

" Yes, I know that, sir, and you ought, and do know it, too. 
The Littlepages are rich, and always have been, and they are 
liberal too. Lord bless your smiling, pretty faces ! I knowed 
your family long afore you knowed it yourselves. I know'd old 
Captain Hugh Roger, your great-grand'ther, and the old gen- 
eral, your grand'ther, and now I know the young general, and 
you ! Well, this will not be the last of you, I dares to say, and 
there'll be light hearts, and happy ones among the Bayards, 
I'll answer for it, now the wars are over, and young Major 
Littlepage has got back!" 

This terminated the discourse ; for by this time I had enough 
of it ; and making my bow, Kate and I rode on. Still, I could 
not but be struck with the last speech of the old woman, and 
most of all with the manner in which it was uttered. The name 



THE CHAIN BEAKER. 45 

of Bayard was well known among us, belonging to a family of 
which there were several branches spread through the Middle 
States, as far south as Delaware ; but I did not happen to know 
a single individual of them all. What, then, could my return 
have to do with the smiles or frowns of any of the name of 
Bayard ? It was natural enough, after ruminating a minute or 
two on the subject, that I should utter some of my ideas, on 
such a subject, to my companion. 

" What could the old woman mean, Kate," I abruptly com- 
menced, " by saying there would now be light hearts and happy 
ones among the Bayards?" 

" Poor Mrs. Light is a great gossip, Mordaunt, and it may be 
questioned if she know her own meaning half the time. All 
the Bayards we know are the family at the Hickories ; and with 
them, you have doubtless heard, my mother has long been 
intimate." 

" I have heard nothing about it, child. All I know is, that 
tbere is a place called the Hickories, up the river a few miles, 
and that it belongs to some of the Bayards ; but I never heard 
of any intimacy. On the contrary, I remember to have heard 
that there was a lawsuit once, between my grandfather Mor- 
daunt and some old Bayard or other ; and I thought we were a 
sort of hereditary strangers." 

" That is quite forgotten, and my mother says it all arose 
from a mistake. We are decided friends now." 

"I'm sure I am very glad to hear it ; for, since it is peace, 
let us have peace ; though old enemies are not apt to make 
very decided friends." 

" But we never were — that is, my grandfather never was an 
enemy of any body ; and the whole matter was amicably settled 
just before he went to Europe, on his unfortunate visit to Sir 
Harry Bulstrode. No — no — my mother will tell you, Mordaunt, 
that the Littlepages and the Bayards now regard each other as 
very decided friends." 

Kate spoke with so much earnestness that I was disposed to 
take a look at her. The face of the girl was flushed, and I 



40 THE CHAIN BEARER. 

fancy slie had a secret consciousness of the fact ; for she turned 
it from me as if gazing at some object in the opposite direction, 
thereby preventing me from seeing much of it. 

*' I am very glad to learn all this," I answered, a little dryly. 
**As I am a Littlepage, it would have been awkward not to 
have known it, had I accidentally met with one of these Bayards. 
Does the peace include all of the name, or only those of the 
Hickories ?" 

Kate laughed ; then she was pleased to tell me that I was to 
consider myself the friend of all of the name. 

"And most especially of those of the name who dwell at the 
Hickories ?" 

" How many may there be of this especially peaceful breed ? 
six, a dozen, or twenty?" 

" Only four ; so your task will make no very heavy demand 
on your affections. Your heart has room, I trust, for four more 
friends ?" 

'* For a thousand, if I can find them, my dear. I can accept 
as many friends as you please, but have places for none else. 
All the other niches are occupied." 

*' Occupied! — I hope that is not true, Mordaunt. One place, 
at least, is vacant." 

" True ; I had forgotten a place must be reseiTcd for the 
brother you will one day give me. Well, name him, as soon 
as you please ; I shall be ready to love him^ child." 

" I may never make so heavy a draft on your affections. 
Anneke has given you a brother already, and a very excellent 
one lie is, and that ought to satisfy a reasonable man." 

" Ay, so all you young women say between fifteen and twenty, 
but you usually change your mind in the end. The sooner you 
(ell me who the youth is, therefore, the sooner I shall begin to 
like him — is he one of these Bayards ? — un chevalier sans peur 
et sans reproche .^" 

Kate had a brilliant complexion, in common; but, as I now 
turned my eyes toward her inquiringly, more in mischief, how- 
ever, than with the expectation of learning any thing new 1 



TIIECIIAINBEARER. 47 

saw the roses of lier clieeks expand until tliey covered her 
temples. The little beaver she Avore, and which became her 
amazingly, did not suffice to conceal these blushes, and I now 
really began to suspect I had hit on a vein that was sensitive. 
But my sister was a girl of spirit, and though it was no diffi- 
cult thing to make her change color, it was by no means easy 
to look her down. 

"I trust your new brother, Mordaunt, should there ever bo 
such a person, will be a respectable man, if not absolutely with- 
out reproach," she answered. *' But, if there be a Tom Bayard, 
there is also a Pris. Bayard, his sister." 

*' So — so — this is all news to me, indeed ! As to Mr. 
Thomas Bayard, I shall ask no questions, my interest in him, 
if there is to be any, being altogether ex officio, as one may say, 
and coming as a matter of course ; but you will excuse me if I 
am a little curious on the subject of Miss Priscilla Bayard, a 
lady, you will remember, I never saw." 

My eye was on Kate the whole time, and I fancied she looked 
gi'atified, though she still looked confused. 

"Ask what you will, brother — Priscilla Bayard can bear a 
very close examination." 

" In the first place, then, did that old gossip allude to Miss 
Priscilla, by saying there would be light hearts and happy ones 
among the Bayards ?" 

" Nay, I cannot answer for poor Mrs. Light's conceits. Put 
your questions in some other form." 

" Is there much intimacy between the people of the 'Bush 
and those of the Hickories ?" 

" Great — ive like them exceedingly ; and I think they like 
asr 

*'Does this intimacy extend to the young folk, or is it con- 
fined to the old?" 

"That is somewhat personal," said Kate, laughing, "as I 
happen to be the only ' young folk' at the 'Bush, to maintain 
the said intimacy. As there is nothing to be ashamed of, how- 
ever, but, on the contrary, much of which one may be proud, I 



48 THECIIAINBEARER. 

shall answer that it includes ' all ages and both sexes ;' every 
body but yourself, in a word." 

" And you like old Mr. Bayard ?" 

"Amazingly." 

" And old Mrs, Bayard ?" 

" She is a very agreeable person, and an excellent wife and 
mother." 

"And you love Pris. Bayard ?" 

" As the apple of mine eye," the girl answered with emphasis. 

"And you like Tom Bayard, her brother?" 

" As much as is decent and proper for one young woman to 
like the brother of another young woman, whom she admits 
that she loves as the apple of her eye." 

Although it was not easy, at least not easy for me, to cause 
Kate Littlepage to hold her tongue, it was not easy for her to 
cause the tell-tale blood always to remain stationary. She was 
surprisingly beautiful in her blushes, and as much like what I 
^ad often fancied my dear mother might have been in her best 
days as possible, at the very moment she was making these re- 
plies, as steadily as if they gave her no trouble. 

"How is all this, then, connected with rejoicings among the 
people of the Hickories, at my return ? Are you the betrothed 
of Tom Bayard, and have you been waiting for my return to 
give him your hand?" 

" I am not the betrothed of Tom Bayard, and have not been 
waiting for your return to give him my hand," answered Kate, 
steadily. "As for Mrs. Light's gossipings, you cannot expect 
vie to explain them. She gets her reports from servants, and 
others of that class, and you know what such reports are 
usually worth. But, as for my waiting for your return, brother, 
in order to announce such an event, you little know how much 
I love you, if you suppose I would do any such thing." 

Kate said this with feeling, and I thanked her with my eyes, 
but could not have spoken, and did not speak, until we had rid- 
den some distance. After this pause, I renewed the discourse 
with some of its original spirit. 



TIIECilAINBEARER. 49 

*' On tliat subject, Katrinke, dear," I said, " I trust we under- 
stand each other. Single, or married, you will ever be very 
dear to me ; and I own I should be hurt to be one of the last 
to learn your engagement, whenever that may happen. And, 
now for this Priscilla Bayard — do you expect me to like her?" 

" Do I ! It would be one of the happiest moments of my 
life, Mordaunt, when I could hear you acknowledge that you 
love her!" 

This was uttered with great animation, and in a way to show 
that my sister was very much in earnest. I felt some surprise 
when I put this feeling in connection with the landlady's 
remarks, and began to suspect there might be something behind 
the curtain worthy of my knowledge. In order to make dis- 
coveries, however, it was necessary to pursue the discourse. 

** Of what age is Miss Bayard ?" I demanded. 

" She is two months my senior — very suitable, is it not?" 

" I do not object to the difference, which will do very well. 
Is she accomplished?" 

.*' Not very. You know few of us girls who have been edu- 
cated during the revolution, can boast of much in that way ; 
though Priscilla is better than common." 

"Than of her class, you mean, of course?" 

*' Certainly — better than most young ladies of our best fami- 
lies." 

" Is she amiable ?" 

"As Anneke, herself!" 

This was saying a great deal, our eldest sister, as often hap- 
pens in families, being its paragon in the way of all the virtues, 
and Anneke's temper being really serenity itself. 

"You give her a high character, and one few girls could 
sustain. Is she sensible and well-informed?" 

" Enough so as often to make me feel ashamed of myself 
She has an excellent mother, Mordaunt ; and I have heard you 
say, often, that the mother would have great influence with 
you in choosing a wife." 

" That must have been when I was very young, child, and 
3 



50 THE CHAINBEARER. 

before I went to the army, where we look more at tlie young 
than at tlie old women. But, why a wife ? Is it all settled 
between the old people, that I am to propose to this Priscilla 
Bayard, and are you a party to the scheme ?" 

Kate laughed with all her heart, but I fancied she looked 
conscious. 

" You make no answer, young lady, and you must permit me 
to remind you that there is an express compact between you 
and me to treat each other frankly on all occasions. This is 
one on which I especially desire to see the conditions of the 
treaty rigidly enforced. Does any such project exist ?" 

'*Not as a project, discussed and planned — no — certainly 
not. No, a thousand times, no. But I shall run the risk of 
frustrating one of my most cherished hopes, by saying, honestly, 
that you could not gratify my dear mother, aunt Mary, and 
myself, more than by falling in love with Pris. Bayard. AVe 
all love her ourselves, and we wish you to be of the party, 
knowing that your love would probably lead to a connection 
we should all like, more than I can express. There ; you cap- 
not complain of a want of frankness, for I have heard it said, 
again and again, that the wishes of friends, indiscreetly expressed, 
are very apt to set young men against the very person it is 
desired to make them admire." 

*' Quite likely to be true as a rule, though in my case no 
effect, good or bad, will be produced. But how do the Bayards 
feel in this matter ?" 

" How should I know ! Of course, no allusion has ever been 
made to any of the family on the subject ; and, as none of them 
know you, it is im — that is, no allusion — I mean — certainly not 
to more than one of them. I believe some vague remarks may 
have been ventured to one — but — " 

" By yourself, and to your friend, Pris. ?" 

*' Never''' — said Kate, with emphasis. " Such a subject could 
never be mentioned between us." 

" Then it must have been between the old ladies — the two 
mothers, probably ?" 



THE CHAIN BEARER. 5] 

" I should think not. Mrs. Bayard is a woman of rcseiTe, 
and mamma lias an extreme sense of propriety, as you know 
yourself, that would not be likely to permit such a thing." 

** Would the general think of contracting me, when my back 
was turned !" 

" Not he — papa troubles himself very little about such things. 
Ever since his return home, he has been courting mamma over 
again, he tells us." 

*' Surely, aunt Mary has not found words for such an allu- 
sion !" 

*' She, indeed! Poor, dear aunt Mary; it is little she med- 
dles with any one's concerns but her own. Do you know, 
Mordaunt, that mamma has told me the whole of her story 
lately, and the reason why she has refused so many excellent 
offers. I dare say, if you ask her, she will tell yow." 

"I know the whole story already, from the general, child. 
But, if this matter has been alluded to, to one of the Bayards, 
and neither my father, mother, nor aunt Mary, has made the 
allusion on our side, and neither Mr. Bayard, his wife, nor 
daughter, has been the party to whom the allusion has been 
made on the other, there remain only yourself and Tom to 
hold the discourse. I beg you to explain this point with your 
customary frankness." 

Kate Littlepage's face was scarlet. She was ftiirly caught, 
though I distrusted the truth from the moment she so stam- 
mered and hesitated in correcting her first statement. I will 
own I enjoyed the girl's confusion, it made her appear so 
supremely lovely ; and I was almost as proud of her, as I ten- 
derly loved her. Dear, dear Kate ; from her childhood I had 
my own amusement with her, though I do not remember any 
thing like a harsh expression, or an unkind feeling, that has 
over passed, or indeed existed, between us. A finer study than 
the face of my sister offered for the next minute, was never 
presented to the eye of man; and I enjoyed it so much the 
more, from a strong conviction that, while so deeply confused, 
she was not unhappy. Native ingenuousness, maiden modesty. 



52 THE CHAINBEARER. 

her habit of frank dcaliDg with me, and a wish to continue so 
to deal, were all struggling together in her fine countenance, 
forming altogether one of the most winning pictures of woman- 
ly feelings I had ever witnessed. At length, the love of fair- 
dealing, and love of me, prevailed over a factitious shame ; the 
color settled back to those cheeks whence it had appeared to 
flash, as it might be, remaining just enough heightened to be 
remarked, and Kate looked toward me in a way that denoted 
all the sisterly confidence and regard that she actually felt. 

"I did not intend to be the one to communicate to you a 
fact, Mordaunt, in which I know you will feel a deep interest, 
for I had supposed my mother would save me the confusion of 
telling it to you ; but, now, there is no choice between resort- 
ing to equivocations that I do not like, and using our old long- 
established frankness." 

" The long and short of which, my dear sister, is to say that 
you are engaged to Mr. Bayard !" 

"No; not as strong as that, brother. Mr. Bayard has 
offered, and my answer is deferred until you have met him. I 
would not engage myself, Mordaunt, until you approved of my 
choice." 

" I feel the compliment, Katrinke, and will be certain to re- 
pay it, in kind. Depend on it, you shall know, in proper sea- 
son, when it is my wish to marry, and shall be heard." 

" There is a diff'erence between the claims of an elder and 
on only brother, and of a mere girl, who ought to place much, 
dependence on the advice of friends, in making ber own selec- 
tion." 

" You will not be a ' mere girl' when that time comes, but 
a married woman yourself, and competent to give good counsel 
from your own experience. To return to Tom, however ; he is 
the member of his family to whom the allusion was made V ' 

" He was, Mordaunt," answered Kate, in a low voice. 

"And you were the person who made it?" 

"Yery true — we were talking of you, one day; and I ex- 
pressed a strong hope that you would see Priscilla with the eyes 



THE CHAINBEAEER. 53 

witli which, I can assure you, all the rest of ycur family sec her. 
That was all." 

"And that was quite enough, child, to cause Tom Bayard to 
hang himself, if he were a lover of the true temper." 

" Hang himself, brother ! I am sure I do not understand why ?" 

" Oh ! merely at the palpable discouragement such a wish 
would naturally convey to the brother of the young lady, since 
he must have seen you were willing to connect the two families 
by means other than giving him your own hand." 

Kate laughed ; but as she did not look much confused, or at 
all alarmed, I was induced to beheve that more important en- 
couragement than could be afforded by means of her wish of 
marrying me to her suitor's sister had been given Master Tom, 
and that my disapproval of the gentleman would cause her 
more concern than she chose to avow. "We rode on, however, 
some little distance, without cither's offering to renew the dis- 
course. At length, as became my sex, I spoke. 

" When am I to see this paragon young man, and paragon 
3'^oung woman, Kate, since see both I must?" 

**Not paragon young man, brother; I am certain I have 
called him by no such name ; Tom Bayard \s> 2^ good felloio ; but 
I do not know that he is by any means a paragon." 

*'He is a good-looking fellow in the bargain, I take it for 
granted ?" 

"Not so much so as you are yourself, if that will gratify your 
vanity." 

" It ought to, coming from such a quarter ; my question is 
still unanswered, notwithstanding." 

"To own the truth to you, Mordaunt, I expect we shall find 
Tom Bayard and Pris. at Satanstoe, to dine with my grand- 
mother. She wrote me word, a day or two since, that both 
are asked, and that she hoped both would accept." 

" The old lady is then in the plot, and intends to marry me, 
will ye, nill ye ? I had thought this visit altogether a scheme 
of my own," 

Kate again laughed, and told me I might make my own ob- 



54 THE C II A 1 N B E A 11 E li . 

servations on that point, and judge for myself. As for the visit, 
I had only accidentally favored a project of others. The con- 
versation now changed, and for several miles we rode along, 
conversing of the scenes of the war, without adverting to the 
Bayards, or to marriages. 

We were within half a mile of the gate of the Neck, and 
within a mile of the house, when we met Jaap returning to Li- 
lacshush, and carrying some fruit to my mother, after having 
discharged his commission of an avant-courier. From Kate's 
remark I had discovered we had been invited by letter to take 
this excursion, though the ceremony of sending the negro across 
with his message had been observed for reasons that were not 
very natural under the circumstances. I made no remark, how- 
ever, determining to see and judge for myself. 

As a matter of course, we drew our reins, and stopped to 
exchange a few words with the black. 

"Well, Jaap, how did the Neck look, after so long an ab- 
sence ?" I inquired. 

"It look, sah, no means as well as ole Missus, who do look 
capital, for such a lady ! Dey do won'ers with 'e Neck, sah, 
if you just believe all young nigger say. But what you t'ink, 
Masser Mordy, I hear at 'e tavern, where I jist stop, sah, to 
water ole Dick?" 

" And to get a sup of cider for old Jaap" — hereupon the 
negro laughed heartily, though he had the impudence neither 
to own nor to deny the imputation, his weakness in favor of 
" wring-jaw" being a well-established failing — "Well, what did 
you hear, while taking down the usual mug ?" 

" I on'y get half a mug, dis time, sah ; ole, ole Missus nebber 
forgettin' to give me jist as much as I want. Well, sah, while 
ole Dick drink, 'e new landlady, who come from Connetick, you 
know, sah, she say to me, ' Where you go, ole color' gentleum V 
Dat war' civil, anyhow." 

"To which you answered " 

*' I answer her, sah, and say I go to Satanstoe, whar' I como 
from, long time 'go." 



THE CHAINBEARER. 65 

'* Whereupon slie made some observation or other — well, 
what was it ? — ^You keep Miss Littlepage waiting." 

" Lor' bless her, sah — it my business to wait on Miss Katrinke, 
not her business to wait on me — why you speak so droll, now, 
Masser Mordy ?" 

** Never mind all that, Jaap, what did the new Connecticut 
lady say, when you told her you were going to Satanstoe, the 
place where you had come from, a long time ago V 

" What she say, Masser Mordy, sah ! — She say great fool- 
ishness, and make me mad. * What you call by dat awful 
name V she say, making face like as if she see a spook. * You 
must mean Dibbleton,' she say — ' dat 'e way all 'e people as is 
genteel call 'e Neck V Did you ebber hear 'e like, sah 2" 

" Oh ! yes ; I heard the like of it, as soon as I was bom ; the 
attempt to change the name of our old place ha'vdng existed 
now, these thirty years. Why, some people call Hellgate, 
Hurlgate ; after that, one may expect any thing. Do you not 
know, Jaap, a Yankee is never satisfied, unless he is effecting 
changes ? One half his time, he is altering the pronunciation 
of his own names, and the other half he is altering ours. Let 
him call the place what he will, you and I will stick to Satans- 
toe." 

" Dat we will, sah — gib 'c debbil his due, sah ; dat an ole 
sayin'. I'm sure any body as has eyes, can see where his toe 
hab turn up 'e sile, and shape it he own way — no dibble dere, 
sak" 

Thus saying, Jaap rode on, my sister and myself doing the 
same, pursuing the discourse that had thus accidentally arisen 
among us. 

*^ Is it not odd, brother, that strangers should have this 

itching to alter the name of my grandmother's place?" said 

Kate, after we had parted from the black. "It is a homely 

name, certainly ; but it has been used, now, a good deal more 

than a century, and time, at least, should entitle it to be let 

alone." 

" Ay, my dear ; but you are not yet aware of the desires, 



50 



THE CIIAINBEARER. 



and longings, and efforts, and ambition of a ' little learning.' 
I have seen enough, in my short career, to know there is a 
spirit up among us, that calls itself by the pretending title of 
the 'spirit of improvement,' which is likely to overturn more 
important things than the name of our poor Neck. It is a 
spirit that assumes the respectable character of a love of liberty ; 
and under that mask, it gives play to malice, envy, covetousness, 
rapacity, and all the lowest passions of our nature. Among 
other things, it takes the provincial pretence of a mock-refine- 
ment, and flatters an elegance of thought that is easiest attained 
by those who have no perceptions of any thing truly elevated, 
by substituting squeamishness and affectations for the simplicity 
of nature, and a good tone of manners." 




THE CHAIN BEARER. 67 



CHAPTER IV. 

JJeat. " Against my will, I am sent to bid you come in to dinner " 
Bene. " Fair Beatrice, I thank you for your pains." 
Beat. " I took no more pains for these thanks, than 

Tou take pains to thank me ; if it had been painful, 

I would not have come." 

Much Ado About Notuino. 

In the porch of the house at Satanstoe stood my dear 
grandmother and the notable Tom Bayard, to receive us. The 
first glance at the latter told me that he was a ** proper man;" 
and by the second, I got the pleasing assurance that he had no 
eye, just then, but for Kate. This was pleasant to know, as I 
never could have been happy in consenting to yield that dear 
girl to any but a man who appreciated her worth, and fully 
admired her beauty. As to my dear " ole, ole" grandmother, 
who was not so very old neither, being still under seventy, her 
reception of us was just what I had ever found it ; warm, affec- 
tionate, and gentle. She called my father, the general. Corny, 
even when she spoke to him in a room full of company ; though, 
for that matter, I have heard my mother, who was much mora 
of a woman of the world, having lived a great deal in society, 
do the same thing, when she thought herself alone. I have 
read some priggish book or other, written no doubt by one 
who knew men only through pages like his own, decry such 
familiarities; but I have generally found those the happiest 
families, and at the bottom, the best toned, where it was Jack 
and Tom, and Bob, and Dick, and Bess, and Di. As for your 
Louisa Adelinas, and Robert Augustuses, and all such elaborate 
respect, I frankly declare I have a contempt for it. Those are 
the sort of people who would call Satanstoe, Dibbleton ; Hell- 



58 THE CIIAINBEARER, 

gate, llurlgate ; and themselves accomplished. Thank heaven, 
we had no such nonsense at Lilacsbush, or at the Neck. My 
father, was Corny ; my mother, Anneke ; Katrinke, Kate ; and 
I was Mordy, or Mord ; or, when there was no huny, Mordaunt. 

Tom Bayard met my salutations frankly, and with a gentle- 
manlike ease, though there was a slight color on his cheek 
which said to me, "I mean to get your sister." Yet I liked 
the fellow's manner. There was no grasping of the hand, and 
coming forward to rush into an intimacy at the first moment 
wc met; but he returned my bow graciously and gracefully, 
and his smile as he did so seemed to invite farther and better 
acquaintance. 

Now I have seen a man cross a whole room to shake hands 
at an introduction to an utter stranger, and maintain a counte- 
nance the whole time as sombre as if he were condoling with 
him on the loss of his wife. This habit of shaking hands dole- 
fully is growing among us, and is imported from some of our 
sister states ; for it is certainly not a New York custom, except 
among intimates ; and it is a bad usage in my opinion, as it 
destroys one of the best means of graduating feelings, and is 
especially ungraceful at an introduction. But alas ! there are 
so many such innovations, that one cannot pretend to predict 
where they are to stop. I never shook hands at an introduc- 
tion, unless it were under my own roof, and when I wished 
to denote a decidedly hospitable feeling, until after I was forty. 
It was thought vulgar in my younger days, and I am not quite 
certain it is not thought so now. 

In the little old-fashioned drawing-room, as of late yeais my 
good grandmother had been persuaded to call what was once 
only the best parlor, we found Miss Priscilla Bayard, who for 
some reason that was unexplained, did not come to the porch 
to meet her friend. She was in truth a charming girl, with fine 
dark eyes, glossy hair, a delicate and lady-like form, and a grace 
of manner that denoted perfect familiarity with the best com- 
pany of the land. Kate and Pris. embraced each other with a 
warmth and sincerity that spoke in favor of each, and with 



THE CHAINBEARER. 59 

perfect nature. An affected American girl, by tlie way, is very 
uncommon ; and nothing strikes me sooner, when I see my 
own countrywomen placed at the side of Europeans, than the 
difference in this respect ; the one seems so natural, while the 
other is so artificial ! 

My own reception by Miss Bayard was gracious, though I 
fancied it was not entirely free from the consciousness of having 
on some idle occasion heard her own name intimately connected 
with mine. Perhaps Kate, in their confidential moments, may 
have said something to this effect ; or I may have been mistaken. 

My grandmother soon announced that the whole party was 
to pass the night at Satanstoe. As we were accustomed to such 
plans, neither Kate nor myself raised the least objection, while 
the Bayards submitted to orders which I soon discovered even 
they were not unused to, with perfect good will and submission. 
Thus brought together, in the familiarity of a quiet and small 
party in a country house, we made great progress in intimacy ; 
and by the time dinner was over, or by four o'clock, I felt like 
an old acquaintance with those who had so lately been strangers 
to me, even by name. As for Bayard and my sister, they were 
in the best of humors from the start, and I felt satisfied their 
affair was a settled thing in their own minds ; but Miss Priscilla 
was a little under constraint for an hour or two, like a person 
who felt a slight embarrassment.' This wore off, however, and 
long before we left the table she had become entirely herself ; 
and a very charming self it was, I was forced to admit. I say 
forced ; for spite of all I had said, and a certain amount of 
good sense, I hope, it was impossible to get rid of the distrust 
which accompanied the notion that I was expected to fall in 
love with the young lady. My poor grandmother contributed 
her share, too, to keep this feeling alive. The manner in which 
she looked from one to the other, and the satisfied smile that 
passed over her countenance whenever she observed Pris. and 
myself conversing freely, .betrayed to me completely that she 
was in the secret, and had a hand in what I chose to regard as 
a. sort of plot. 



60 THE CIIAINBEARER. 

I had heard that my grandmother had set her lieart on the mar- 
riage of my parents a year or two before matters came round, 
and that she always fancied she had been very instrumental in 
forming a connection that had been as happy as her own. The 
recollection, or the fancy of this success most probably encour- 
aged her to take a share in the present scheme ; and I have 
always supposed that she got us all together on that occasion in 
order to help the great project along. 

A walk on the Neck was proposed in the cool of the even- 
ing ; for Satanstoe had many a pleasant path, pretty vista, and 
broad view. Away we went, then, the four of us, Kate lead- 
ing the- way, as the person most familiar with the '* capabilities." 
We were soon on the shore of the Sound, and at a point where 
a firm, wide beach of sand had been left by the receding wa- 
ters, rocks fringing the inner boundary toward the main. 
Here one could Avalk without confinement of any sort, there 
being room to go in pairs, or all abreast, as we might choose. 
Miss Bayard seeming a little coy, and manifesting a desire to 
keep near her friend, I abandoned the intention of walking at 
her side, but fell behind a little, and got into discourse with 
her brother. Nor was I sorry to have this early opportunity 
of sounding the party who was likely soon to become so nearly 
connected with me. . After a few minutes, the conversation 
turned on the late revolution, and the manner in which it was 
likely to influence the future fortunes of the country. I knew 
that a portion of the family of my companion had adhered to 
the crown, losing their estates by the act of confiscation ; but 
I also knew that a portion did not, and I was left to infer that 
Tom's branch belonged to the latter division of his name, inas- 
much as his father was known to be very easy in his circum- 
stances, if not absolutely rich. It was not long, however, 
before I ascertained that my new friend was a mild tory, and 
that he would have been better pleased had the rights we had 
sought, and which he was willing enough to admit had been 
violated, been secured without a separation of the two coun- 
tries. As the Littlepages had actually been in arms against 



THE CHAINBEARER. 61 

the crown, three generations of them, too, at the same time, 
and the fact could be no secret, I was pleased with the candor 
with which Tom Bayard expressed his opinions on these 
points ; for it spoke well of the truth and general sincerity of 
his character. 

"Does it not strike you as a necessary consequence of the 
distance between the two countries," I remarked, in the course 
of the conversation, *' that a separation must, sooner or later, 
have occurred ? It is impossible that two countries should long 
have common rulers when they are divided by an ocean. Ad- 
mitting that our separation has been a little premature, a cir- 
cumstance I should deny in a particular discussion, it is an evil 
that every hour has a tendency to lessen." 

'' Separations in families are always painful, Major Littlepage; 
when accompanied by discussions, doubly so." 

" Quite true ; yet they always happen. If not in this gener- 
ation, in the next." 

'•''Ido think," said Tom Bayard, looking at me a little im- 
ploringly, " that we might have got along with our difficulties 
without casting aside our allegiance to the king." 

*'Ay, that has been the stumbling-block with thousands; 
and yet it is, in truth, the very weakest part of the transatlantic 
side of the question. Of what avail is allegiance to the king, 
if parliament uses its power in a way to make American interests 
subservient to those of England ? A great deal may be said, 
that is reasonable, in favor of kingly power ; that I am ready 
enough to allow ; but very little that renders one people subject 
to another. This thing called loyalty blinds men to facts, and 
substitutes a fancied for a real power. The question has been, 
whether England, by means of a parliament in which we have 
no representative, is to make laws for us or not; and not 
Avhether George III. is to be our sovereign, or whether we are 
to establish the sovereignty of the people."* 

* [This short dialogue is given in the text, because it is found in Mr. Mordannt Lit* 
tlepage's manuscript, and not because the state of feeling in this country to-day has 
any connection with the opinions expressed. The American nation, as a whole, is 



62 THE CIIAINBEAREU. 

Bayard bowed, civilly enough, to my remark, and he changed 
the subject. SuflScient had been said, however, to satisfy me 
that there would be little political sympathy between us, let 
the family tie be drawn as close as it might. The girls joined 
us before Ave had got altogether into another vein of discourse, 
and I was a little chagrined at finding that Kate entered rather 
more into her admirer's views of such subjects than comported 
with the true feelings, as I fancied, of a Littlepage, after all 
that had passed. Still, as I should have liked the woman I 
loved to agree with me in opinion as much as possible in every 
thing, I was not disposed to judge harshly of my sister on that 
account. On the other hand, to my surprise, I found Miss 
Priscilla a zealous, and, to say the truth, a somewhat blind 
patriot ; condemning England, the king, and the efforts of par- 
liament with a warmth that Avas only equal to that with which 
she defended every thing, act, measure, principle or policy, that 
was purely American. 

I cannot say I had as much tolerance for the patriotism of 
Miss Bayard as I had for the petit treason of my sister. It 
seemed natural enough that Kate should begin to look at things 
of this nature with the eyes of the man she had made up her 
mind to marry ; but it looked far more like management in her 
friend, who belonged to a tory family, to volunteer so freely the 



now as completely emancipated from English political influence, as If the latter never 
had an existence. The emancipation is too complete, indeed, the effect having 
brought with it a reaction that is, on many points, running into error in a contrary 
direction; the third of our manuscripts having something to do with these excesses 
of opinion. But Mr. Mordaunt Littlepage appears to have some near glimmerings of 
the principles which lay at the root of the American revolution, though the principle 
itself does not appear to have been openly recognized anywhere at the time. The 
king of England was originally king of America, as he was king of Ireland, and king 
of Scotland. It is true, there was no American flag, the system excluding the colonies 
from any power on the ocean; then each colony existed as independent of the others, 
except through their common allegiance. The revolution of 1688 slowly brought 
parliament into the ascendant; and by the time George III. ascended the throne, that 
ascendency had got to be almost undisputed. Now, America had no proper connec- 
tion with parliament, which, in that day, represented England and Wales only; and 
this was a state of things which made one country dependent on the otJier, a subser- 
viency of interests that clearly could last only so long as the party governed was too 
weak to take care of itself.] 



THE CIIAINBEARER. 63 

sentiments of one she could not yet love, inasmuch as until that 
day she had never even seen him. 

"Is it not so, Major Littlepage ?" cried this lovely creature, 
for very lovely she was, beyond all dispute ; and feminine and 
delicate, and lady-like, and all I could have wished her, had 
she only been a little less of a whig, and a good deal more of a 
tory ; her eyes sparkling and flashing, at the same time, as if 
she felt all she was saying from the very bottom of her heart — 
" Is it not so, Major Littlepage ? — America has come out of this 
war with imperishable glory; and her history, a thousand years 
hence, will be the wonder and admiration of all who read it !" 

" That will somewhat depend on what her history may 
prove to be, between that day and this. The early history of 
all great nations fills us with admiration and interest, while 
mightier deeds effected by an insignificant people are usually 
forgotten." 

"Still, this revolution has been one of which any nation 
might have been proud !" 

As it would not have been proper to deny this, I bowed and 
strayed a little from the rest of the party, under the pretence of 
looking for shells. My sister soon joined me, when the follow- 
ing short conversation passed between us. 

"You find Pris. Bayard a stanch whig, Major Littlepage," 
commenced my warm-hearted sister. 

" Very much so ; but I had supposed the Bayards excessive- 
ly neutral, if not absolutely the other way." 

" Oh ! that is true enough of most of them, but not with 
Pris., who has long been a decided whig. There is Tom, now, 
rather moderate in his opinions, while the father and mother 
are what you call excessively neutral; but Pris. has been a 
whig almost as long as I have known her." 

" Almost as long ! She was, then, a tory once ?" 

" Hardly ; though certainly her opinions have undergone a 
very gradual change. We are both young, you will remember; 
and girls at their first coming out do very little of their own 
thinking. For the last three years, certainly, or since she <\'as 



C4 THE CIIAINBEARER. 

seventeen, Pris. has been getting to be more and more of a 
whig, and less and less of a tory. Do you not find her decid- 
edly handsome, Mordaunt ?" 

" Very decidedly so, and very winning in all that belongs to 
her sex — gentle, feminine, lady-like, lovely, and withal a whig." 

** I knew you would admire her!" cried Kate, in triumph, 
"I shall live to see my dearest wish accomplished !" 

" I make no doubt you will, child ; though it will not be by 
the marriage of a Mr. Littlepage to a Miss Bayard." 

I got a laugh and a blush for this sally, but no sign of sub- 
mission. On the contrary, the positive girl shook her head, 
until her rich curls were all in motion, and she laughed none the 
less. We immediately joined our companions, and by one of 
those crossings over and figurings in, that are so familiar to the 
young of the two sexes, we were soon walking along the sands 
again, Tom at Kate's side, and I at that of Priscilla Bayard's. 
"What the other two talked about I never knew, though I fancy 
one might guess; but the young lady with me pursued the 
subject of the revolution. 

" You have probably been a little surprised, Major Little- 
page," she commenced, "to hear me express myself so warmly 
in favor of this country, as some of the branches of my family 
have been treated harshly by the new government?" 

"You allude to the confiscations? I never justified them, 
and wish they had not been made ; for they fall heaviest on 
those who were quite inoffensive, while most of our active ene- 
mies have escaped. Still it is no more than is usual in civil 
wars, and what would surely have befallen us, had it been our 
fortune to be the losing party." 

" So I have been told ; but, as no loss has fallen on any who 
are very near to me, my public virtue has been able to resist 
private feeling. My brother, as you may have seen, is less of 
an American than I am myself." 

" I have supposed he is one of the * extremely neutral ;' and 
they, I have thought, always incline a little in favor of the 
losing party." 



THE CHAINBEARER. 65 

*' I hope, however, his political bias, -which is very houest, 
though very much in error, will not materially affect him in 
your good opinion. Too much depends on that, for me not to 
be anxious on the subject ; and being the only decided whig in 
the family, I have thought I would venture to speak in behalf 
of a very dearly beloved brother." 

" Well," I said to myself, *' this is being sufficiently manag- 
ing ; but I am not quite so unpractised as to be the dupe of an 
artifice so little concealed ! The deuce is in the girl ; yet she 
seems in earnest, looks at me with the good faith and simplicity 
of a sister who feels even more than she expresses, and is cer- 
tainly one of the loveliest creatures I ever laid eyes on ! I must 
not let her see how much I am on my guard, but must meet 
management with management. It will be singular, indeed, if 
I, who have commanded a company of continentals with some 
credit, cannot get along with a girl of twenty, though she were 
even handsomer, and looked still more innocent than this Pris. 
Bayard, which would be no easy matter, by the way." 

The reader will understand this was what I said to myself, 
and it was soon uttered, for one talks surprisingly fast to 
himself; but that which I said to my fair companion, after 
a moment's hesitation, Avas very different in language and 
import. 

" I do not understand in what way Mr. Bayard can be 
affected by my opinion, let it be for or against him," I an- 
swered, with just as much innocency of expression, according 
to my notion of the matter, as the young lady herself had 
thrown into her own pretty countenance, thereby doing myself 
infinite credit, in my own conceit; "though I am far from 
judging any man severely, because he happens to differ from 
me in his judgment of public things. The question was one 
of great delicacy, and the most honest men have differed the 
Avidest on its merits." 

" You do not know how glad I am to hear you say this, Mr. 
Littlepage," returned my companion, with one of the sweetest 
smiles woman ever bestowed on man. "It will make Tom 



CG THE CHAIN BEARER. 

completely liappy, for I know lie lias been sadly afraid of you, 
on tliis very point." 

I did not answer instantly ; for I believe I was watcliing the 
traces of that bewitching smile, and speculating against its 
influence with the pertinacity of a man who was determined 
not to be taken in. That smile haunted me for a week, and it 
was a long time before I fully comprehended it. I decided, 
liowever, to come to the point at once, as respects Bayard and 
iny sister, and not be beating the bush with indirect allusions. 

"In what manner can my opinion influence your brother, 
Miss Bayard?" I asked, as soon as I was ready to say any 
thing. *' To prevent misconceptions, let me beg of you to be 
a little more explicit." 

" You can hardly be ignorant of my meaning, I should 
think!" answered Priscilla, with a little surprise. ''One has 
only to look at the couple before us, to comprehend how your 
opinion of the gentleman might have an influence on himself, 
at least." 

" The same might be said of us, Miss Bayard, so far as m}- 
inexperienced eye can tell. They are a young couple, walking 
together ; the gentleman appearing to admire the lady, I will 
confess ; and we are a young couple walking together, the gen- 
tleman appearing to admire the lady, or he does no credit to 
his taste or sensibility." 

*' There," said I to myself again, '' that is giving her quite 
as good as I receive ; let me see how you take thatP 

Pris. took it very well ; laughing, and blushing just enough 
to make her appear the loveliest creature I had ever laid eyes 
on. She shook her head very much as my sister had done not 
long before, and disclaimed the analogy, first in her manner, 
and next with her tongue. 

"The cases are very diff'erent, sir," she answered. "We 
are strangers to each other, while Tom Bayard and Kate Little- 
page are acquaintances of years' standing. We do not love 
each other in the least ; not a bit, though we are inclined to 
think very well of each other, on account of the interest we 



THE CHAINBEARER. C7 

Uke in the couple before us, and because I am the intimate 
friend of your only sister, and because you are the only brother 
of my intimate friend. There, however," and she now spoke 
with emphasis, " our interest ceases, never to be increased 
beyond a friendly regard, that I trust will grow up out of 
our respective merits and respective discernment. It is very, 
very ditFerent with the couple before us;" here, again, the 
flexible girl spoke with extreme feeling ; every tone and cadence 
of her voice denoting lively sensibilit}'-. "They have been 
long attached, not admirers of each other, as you call it. Major 
Littlepage, but attached ; and your opinion of my brother just 
at this moment, is of the last importance to him. I hope I 
have at last made myself understood ?" 

"Perfectly ; and I intend to be just as explicit. In the first 
place I enter a solemn protest against all tbat you have said 
about the * other couple,' with the exception of the interest we 
each feel in the brother or sister. Next, I proclaim Kate Lit- 
tlepage to be her own mistress, so far as her brother Mordaunt 
is concerned , and lastly, I announce that I see or know nothing 
in the character, connections, fortune, person, or position of 
her suitor, Thomas Bayard, of the Hickories, Esquire, that is 
in the least below her pretensions or merits. I hope that is 
sufficiently satisfactory ?" 

"Entirely so; and from the bottom of my heart I thank 
you for it. I will own I have had some little apprehensions 
on the subject of Tom's political opinions ; but those removed, 
nothing else can remain to create the smallest uneasiness." 

*' How is it possible that any of you could consider my no- 
tions of so much importance, when Kate has a father, a mother, 
and a grandmother living, all of whom, as I understand things, 
approve of her choice ?" 

"Ah, Mr. Littlepage, you are not conscious of your impor- 
tance in your own family, I see. I know it better than you 
appear to know it yourself. Father, mother, grandmother, 
and sister, all think and speak of Mordaunt alike. To hear the 
general converse of the war, you would suppose that he had 



68 THE C II A I N B E A K E R . 

commanded a company, and Captain Littlepage tlic regiment. 
Mrs. Littlepage defers to Mordaunt's taste, and Mordaunt's 
opinions, and Mordaunt's judgment, even in housekeeping and 
liem-stitcliing. Kate is forever saying, * my brother says this,' 
* my brother writes that,' * my brother does t'other ;' and as 
for the old lady here at the * Toe,' she would hardly think her 
peaches and cherries could ripen, unless Mordaunt Littlepage, 
the son of her son Corny Littlepage — by no accident does she 
ever call him * general,' — were on the face of the earth to create 
an eternal sunshine !" 

"Was there ever a girl like this! Tliat speech was made 
too, in the quietest, most gentle, lady-like manner possible. 
That the young lady had spirit and humor enough, was very 
apparent; and for a momejat I doubted whether both were 
not accompanied by the most perfect simplicity of character, 
and the most perfect good faith. Subsequent remarks and 
occurrences, however, soon revived all my original distrusts. 

" This is a vivid picture of family weaknesses, that you have 
so graphically drawn. Miss Bayard," I answered ; "and I shall 
not easily forget it. What renders it the more lively and 
pointed, and the more likely to be relished by the world, is the 
fact that Mordaunt so little deserves the extreme partiality of 
the friends you have mentioned." 

" The last feature forms no part of my picture. Major Little- 
page, and I disown it. As for the world, it will never know 
any thing about it. You and I are not the world, nor are we 
at all likely ever to be the world to each other ; I wish you par- 
ticularly to understand that, which is the reason I am so frank 
with you on so short an acquaintance. 1 tell you your opinion 
is of the last importance to Tom ; as your sister would not 
marry him, did she believe you thought in the least ill cf 
him." 

" And she would, did I think well of him ?" 

"That is a question a lady must answer for herself. And 
now we will say no more on the subject ; for my mind is easy 
since I find you entertain no political hostility to Tom." 



THE C H A I N B E A U E K. 09 

" Men arc much less apt to entertaiu such feelings, I fancy, 
after they have fairly fought out a quarrel, than when they only 
talk over its heads. Besides, the winning party is commonly 
the least rancorous, and success will make us whigs forgiving. 
I give you my honor, no objection will be raised against your 
brother, by me, on account of his opinions of the revolution. 
My dear mother herself has been half a tory the whole war ; 
and Kate, I find, has imbibed all her charity." 

A singular, and, as I thought, a painful smile, crossed the 
sweet face of Priscilla Bayard, as I made this remark ; but she 
did not answer it. It seemed to me she was now desirous of 
quitting the subject entirely, and I immediately led the discourse 
to other things. 

Kate and I remained at Satanstoe several days, and Tom 
Bayard was a daily visitor ; the distance between the Neck and 
the Hickories being no great matter. I saw the young lady 
twice during the interval ; once, by riding over to her father's 
residence with that express object ; and once when she came 
across on horseback to see her friend. I confess I was never 
more at a loss to understand a character than I was that of this 
young woman. She was either profoundly managing, or as 
innocent and simple as a child. It was easy to see that her 
brother, my sister, my grandmother, and, as I fancied, the 
parents of the young lady herself, were anxious that I should 
be on as good terms as possible with Pris., as they all called 
her ; though I could not fathom her own feelings on the subject. 
It would have been unnatural not to have loved to gaze on her 
exceeding beauty, or not to have admired her extremely grace- 
ful and feminine manner, which was precisely all that one could 
wish it to be in the way of ease and self-possession, without 
being in the least free or forward ; and I did gaze on the one, 
and admire the other, at the very moment I was most disposed 
to distrust her sincerity, and to believe her nature the very 
perfection of art. There were times when I was disposed to 
fancy this Pris. Bayard as profound and skilful an actor as 
one of her sex, years, and condition in life could well become, 



70 THECIIAINBEARER. 

without falling altogether ; and there were moments, too, when 
she seemed to be instinct with all the sensitive and best quali- 
ties of her sex. 

It is scarcely necessary to say I remained heart-whole, under 
such circumstances, notwithstanding the obvious wishes of my 
friends, and the young lady's great advantages ! A man no 
more falls blindly in love when he distrusts any thing amiss, 
than he sees any thing amiss when he is blindly in love. It 
has often been a matter of surprise to me, how often and how 
completely the wisest of the earthly races conspire to deceive 
themselves. When suspicions are once excited, testimony is 
not needed ; condemnation following much as a logical induc- 
tion, though founded on nothing better than plausible distrusts ; 
while, on the other hand, where confidence exists, testimony is 
only too apt to be disregarded. "Women, in particular, are 
peculiarly aj^t to follow the bias of their affections, rather than 
of their reasons, in all cases connected with guilt. They are 
hard to be convinced of the unworthiness of those who belong 
to them through the affections, because the affections are 
usually stronger with them than their reasoning powers. How 
they cling to their priests, for instance, when the cooler heads 
and greater experience of men condemn, and that merely 
because their imaginations choose to adorn the oflfenders with 
the graces of that religion which they venerate, and on which 
they rely ? He is a shrewd man who can draw the line be- 
tween the real and the false in these matters ; but he is truly a 
weak one who disregards evidence, when evidence is complete 
and clear. That we all have our sins and our failings is true, 
but there are certain marks of unworthiness which are infallible, 
and which ought never to be disregarded, since they denote tho 
existence of the want of principle that taints a whole character. 



THE CIIAINBEARER. 7l 



CHAPTER V. 

'♦ He were an excellent Tnan. that were made just In the mid-way between hiui and 
benedick ; the one is too like an image, and says nothing ; and the other, too like uiy 
lady's eldest son, evermore tattling." Beatrice. 

The very day my sister and I left Satanstoe, there was an 
interesting interview between my grandmother and myself, that 
it may be well to relate. It took place in the cool of the morn- 
ing, before breakfast, indeed, and previously to the appearance 
of any of the rest of the party ; for Tom Bayard and his sister 
had again ridden across the country to pass the night, and see 
us off. My grandmother had requested me to meet her thus 
early, in a sort of little piazza, that modern improvements had 
annexed to one end of the old buildings, and in which we both 
appeared accordingly with the utmost punctuality. I saw by a 
certain sort of importance that my good grandmother wore in 
her countenance, that she had weighty matters on her mind, 
and took the chair she had set for me with some little curiosity 
to learn what was to follow. The chairs were placed side by 
side, or nearly so, but looking different ways, and so close to- 
gether that, when seated, we were quite face to face. My 
grandmother had on her spectacles, and she gazed wistfully 
through them at me, parting the curls on my forehead, as had 
been her wont when I was a boy. I saw tears rolling out from 
behind the glasses, and felt apprehensive I might have said or 
done something to have wounded the spirit of that excellent 
and indulgent parent. 

*'For heaven's sake, grandmother, what can this mean?" I 
cried. " Have I done any thing amiss ?" 

''No, my child, no; but much to the contrary. You are, 
and ever have been, a good and dutiful son, not only to your 



^1 THE C H AINBE A RE R. 

real parents, but to me. But your name ought to have been 
Hugh — that I will maintain, long as I live. I told your father 
as much when you were born ; but he was Mordaunt mad then, 
as, indeed, he has remained pretty much ever since. Not that 
Mordaunt is not a good name, and a respectable name, and 
they say it is a noble name in England ; but it is a family name, 
and family names are not fit for Christian names, at the best. 
Hugh should have been your name, if I could have had my 
way ; and, if not Hugh, Corny. "Well, it is too late for that 
now, as Mordaunt you are, and Mordaunt you must live and 
die. Did any one ever tell you, my child, how very, veiy like 
vou are to your honored grandfather ?" 

"My mother, frequently — I have seen the tears start into 
her eyes as she gazed at me, and she has often told me my 
fomily name ought to have been Mordaunt, so much do I re- 
semble her fLither." 

" Jler father ! — Well, Anneke docs get some of the strangest 
conceits into her head ! A better woman, or a dearer, does not 
breathe — I love your mother, my child, quite as much as if she 
had been born my own daughter ; but I must say she does get 
some of the strano;est notions into her head that mortal ever 
imagined. You like Herman Mordaunt ! You are the very 
image of your grandfather Littlepage, and no more like Herman 
Mordaunt than you are like the king !" 

The revolution was then, and is now, still too recent to pre- 
vent these constant allusions to royalty, notwithstanding my 
grandfather had been as warm a whig as there was in the colo- 
nies, from the commencement of the struggle. As for the 
resemblance spoken of, I have always understood I was a 
mingled repetition of the two families, as so often happens, a 
circumstance that enables my different relatives to trace such 
resemblances as best suit their respective fancies. This was 
quite convenient, and may have been a reason, in addition to 
the fact of my being an only son, that I was so great a favorite 
with the females of my family. My dear old grandmother, who 
was then in her sixty-ninth year, was so persuaded of my like- 



THE CHAINBEARER. 



ness to lier late husband, tlie *' old general," as he was now 
called, that she would not proceed in her communications until 
she had wiped her eyes, and gratified her afiections with another 
long and wistful gaze. 

"Oh, those eje^V^ she murmured — " and that forehead! — The 
mouth, too, and the nose, to say nothing of the smile, which is 
as much alike as one pea is like another !" 

This left very little for the Mordaunts, it must be owned ; 
the chin and ears being pretty much all that were not claimed 
for the direct line. It is true my eyes were blue, and the " old 
general's" had been as black as coals ; my nose was Grecian, 
and his a most obtrusive Roman ; and as for the mouth, I can 
only say mine was as like that of my mother's as a man's could well 
be like a woman's. The last I had heard my father say a thou- 
sand times. But no matter ; age, and affection, and the longings 
of the parent, caused my grandmother to see things differently. 

"Well, Mordaunt," the good old lady at length continued, 
"how do you like this choice of your sister Kate's? Mr. Bay- 
ard is a charming young man, is he not?" 

" Is it then a choice, grandmother ? Has Kate actually made 
up her mind ?" 

"Pshaw!" answered my grandmother, smiling as archly as 
if she were sixteen herself — " that was done long ago — and 
papa approved, and mamma was anxious, and I consented, and 
sister Anneke was delighted, and every thing was as smooth as 
the beach at the end of the Neck, but waiting for your appro- 
bation. * It would not be right, grandmother, for me to engage 
myself while Mordaunt is away, and without his even knowing 
the gentleman ; so I will not answer until I get his approbation 
too,' said Kate. That was very pretty in her, was it not, my 
child ? All your father's children have a sense of propriety !" 

" Indeed it was, and I shall not forget it soon. But suppose 
T had disapproved, what would have followed, grandmother?" 

" You should never ask unpleasant questions, saucy fellow ; 
though I dare to say Kate would at least have asked Mr. Bayard 
to wait until you had changed your mind. Giving him up 



74 TIIECIIAINBEARER. 

altogether would be out of the question, and unreasonable; but 
she might have waited a few months or so, until you changed 
your mind ; and I would have advised her so to do. But all 
that is unnecessary as matters are ; for you have expressed your 
approbation, and Kate is perfectly happy. The last letter from 
Lilacsbush, which Jaap brought, gives the formal consent of 
your dear parents — and what parents you have, my child ! — so 
Kate wrote an acceptance yesterday, and it was as prettily ex- 
pressed a note as I have seen in many a day. Your own mother 
could not have done better in her young days ; and Anneke Mor- 
daunt worded a note as genteelly as any young woman I ever knew. ' ' 

"I am glad every thing has gone right, and am sure no one 
can wish the young couple more happiness than I do myself. 
Kate is a dear, good girl, and I love her as much as a brother 
can love a sister." 

*' Is she not ? and as thorough a Littlepage as ever was born ! 
I do hope she will be happy. All the marriages in our family 
have proved so hitherto, and it would be strange if this should 
turn out differently. Well, now, Mordaunt, when Kate is mar- 
ried, you will be the only one left." 

''That is true, grandmother; and you must be glad to find 
there will be one of us left to come and see you, without bring- 
ing; nurses and children at his heels." 

" I ! — I glad of any thing of the sort ! No, indeed, my 
child; I should be sorry enough did I think for a moment, you 
would not marry as soon as is prudent, now that the war is 
over. As for the children, I dote on them ; and I have ever 
thought it a misfortune that the Littlepages have had so few, 
ospecially sons. Your gTandfather, my general, was an only son ; 
your father was an only son ; and you are an only son ; that 
is, so far as coming to men's estates are, or were concerned. 
No, Mordaunt, my child, it is the warmest wish of my heart to 
see you properly married, and to hold the Littlepages of the 
next generation in my arms. Two of you I have had there 
already, and I shall have lived the life of the blessed to be able 
tohold the third." 



THE C II AIN BE A HE R. 75 

" My dear, good grandmother ! — what am I to understand 
by all this?" 

" That I wish you to marry, my child, now that the war is 
ended ; that your father wishes you to marry ; that your mother 
wishes you to marry ; and that your sister wishes you to 
marry." 

"And all of you wish me to marry the same person ? ts it 
not so ?" 

My grandmother smiled, but she fidgeted; fancying, as I 
suspected, that she had been pushing matters a little too fast. 
It was not easy, however, for one of her truth and simplicity of 
character to recede after having gone so far ; and she wisely 
determined to have no reserves with me on the subject. 

** I believe you are right, Mordaunt," she answered, after a 
short pause. "We do all wish you to fall in love as soon as 
you can can ; to propose as soon as you are in love ; and to 
marry Priscilla Bayard, the instant she will consent to have you." 

" This is honest, and like yourself, my dear grandmother ; 
and now we both know what is intended, and can speak plainly. 
In the first place, do you not think one connection of this sort, 
between families, quite sufficient ? If Kate marry the brother, 
may I not be excused for overlooking the attractions of the 
sister?" 

" Priscilla Bayard is one of the loveliest girls in York Colony, 
Mordaunt Littlepage !" 

" We call this part of the world York State, now, dearest 
grandmother. I am far from denying the truth of what you 
say ; — Priscilla Bayard is very lovely." 

" I do not know what more you can wish, than to get such 
a girl." 

" I shall not say that the time will not come when I may be 
glad to obtain the consent of the young lady to become my 
wife ; but that time has not yet arrived. Then, I question the 
expediency, when friends greatly desire any particular match, 
of saying too much about it." 

My poor grandmother looked quite astounded, like one who 



76 THE C II A I N B E A R E R . 

felt she had innocently done mischief; and she sat gazing 
fondly at me, with the expression of a penitent child painted in 
her venerated countenance. 

" Nevertheless, Mordaunt, I had a great share in bringing 
about the union between your own dear parents," she at length 
answered ; " and that has been one of the happiest marriages I 
have ever known !'* 

I had often heard allusions of this nature, and I had several 
times observed the quiet smile of my mother, as she listened to 
them ; smiles that seemed to contradict the opinion to which 
my grandmother's mistaken notions of her own influence had 
given birth. On one occasion (I was still quite a boy), I remem- 
ber to have asked my mother how the fact was, when the 
answer was, " I married your father through the influence of 
a butchers boy;" a reply that had some reference to a very 
early passage in the lives of my parents. But I well know 
that neither Cornelius Littlepage, nor Anneke Mordaunt, was 
a person to be coaxed into matrimony ; and I resolved on 
the spot, their only son should manifest an equal indepen- 
dence. I might have answered my grandmother to this 
effect, and in language stronger than was my practice when 
addressing that reverend parent, had not the two girls ap- 
peared on the piazza at that moment, and broke up our private 
conference. 

Sooth to say, Priscilla Bayard came forth upon me, that 
morning, with something like the radiance of the rising sun. 
Both the girls had that fresh, attractive look, that is apt to 
belong to the toilets of early risers of their sex, and which 
probably renders them handsomer at that hour, than at any 
other part of the day. My own sister was a very charming 
girl, as any one would allow; but her friend was decidedly 
beautiful. I confess I found it a little difficult not to give in 
on the spot, and to whisper my anxious grandmother that I 
would pay proper attention to the young lady, and make an 
offer at the suitable time, as she advanced toward us, exchanging 
the morning salutations, with*just enough of ease to render her 



THE CHAINBEARER. 77 

perfectly graceful, and yet with a modesty and retemie that 
were infinitely winning. 

"Mordaunt is about to quit me, for the whole summer, 
Miss Bayard," said my grandmother, who would be doing 
while there was a chance ; '* and I have had him out here, to 
converse a little together, before we part. Kate I shall see 
often during the pleasant season, I trust ; but this is to be the 
last of Mordaunt until the cold weather return." 

*'Is Mr. Littlepage going to travel?" inquired the young 
kidy, with just as much interest as good breeding demanded, 
and not a particle more ; *' for Lilacsbush is not so distant, but 
he might ride over once a week, at least, to inquire how you 
do." 

*'0h, he is going a great, great distance, and to a part of 
the world I dread to think of !" 

Miss Bayard now looked really startled, and a good deal as- 
tonished, questioning me with her very fine eyes, though she 
said nothing with her tongue. 

"It is time I explain, lest Miss Bayard fancy my destination 
to be China ; whither all American adventurers now seem bent 
on going. I shall not quit the state, however." 

" As the state is of some size," answered Priscilla, '' a grand- 
mother may think an only grandson far enough distant who is 
at the other end of it. Perhaps you visit Niagara, Major Lit- 
tlepage ? I have heard of several gentlemen who have such an 
excursion in view ; and glad enough shall I be when the roads 
are in such a state that ladies can be of the party." 

'* And you would have the spirit to be of such a party?" 
asked my grandmother, seizing with avidity every thing, even 
to the least, that might encourage her wishes. 

Pris. Bayard seemed fearful she had gone too far, for she 
blushed very charmingly, ere she answered. 

*' I am not aware, Mrs. Littlepage, that any very great spirit 
would be required," she said. "It is true, there are Indians 
by the way, and a vast wilderness between us and the end of 
the journey ; but ladies have made it, I have been told, and in 



78 THE CIIAINBEARER. 

safet}'. One hears sucli wonders of tlie Falls, tliat it would 
be a strong temptation to hazard something, in order to see 
them." 

I look back with wonder over the short interval of time that 
interposes, when T remember how we used to regard the Falls 
of Niagara in my youth. A voyage to Europe seemed little less 
hazardous and serious ; and voyages to Europe were not then 
what they are to-day.* 

*' Nothing would make me happier," I cried, gallantly, to my 
poor grandmother's ill-concealed delight, " than to be the 
protector of Miss Bayard on the excursion." 

"You really think, then, of undertaking the journey. Major 
Littlepage ?" 

*' Not this season, though I hold the hope in reserve, for 
some future day. My destination, at present, is Ravensnest, 
a place less than fifty miles distant from Albany." 

" Ravensnest ! — That is a pretty name, though one might 
like it better, I think, Kate, were it Dovesnest, or Robinsnest, 
or Wrensnest. What is this Ravensnest, Mr. Littlepage ?" 

" An estate of a good deal of land, but of no great value as 
yet, whatever it may turn out to be hereafter, that was once the 
property of my grandfather Mordaunt, and which he bequeathed 
to me. My father and Colonel Dirck have also an estate adjoin- 
ing it, which is called Mooseridge. I am to visit both ; as the 

* The reader of course will always recollect that this manuscript was written 
nearly, if not quite forty years ago. Even then, a journey to Niagara was a serious 
undertaking. Now (1845), it can be made by steam the entire distance from the town 
of New York, or between 450 and 500 miles, in less than thirty-six hours I This is one 
of the prodigies of a giant in his infancy, and should render foreign politicians cautions 
how they talk of regulating the boundaries of this republic for its citizens. If the 
past can be any pledge for the future in American history, they are now living who 
will see steam extended across the continent, from the Atlantic to the Pacific, and 
the stars and stripes flying at each end ! More than a thousand of the four thousand 
miles necessary to achieve such an object have been overcome ; and that which re- 
mains to be done, comparing ends with means, is not one-half as great an effort as 
that which has been done. This may be a proper place to add, that nothing has so 
much strengthened the present administration in its annexation projects, as the 
threatened interference of European governments in the aflFairs of this continent. At 
Bome critical moment, when it is least wanted, Amcricft may pay them in kind.— 
Editor. 



THE CHAINBEAREK. 79 

owner of oue, and as tlie agent of tlie owners of the otlier. It 
is time the several properties were looked to, the late troubles 
having almost thrown them out of our view." 

*' They tell me that a great deal is doing in the way of settling 
the wild lands of the interior this summer," continued Priscilla, 
with an interest in the subject that was much more obvious to 
me, than explicable — '* and that a great many settlers are pour- 
ing in upon us from the adjoining New England states. I have 
heard, also, that the vast possessions of the Patroon are fast 
filling up, and that the heart of the state will soon be peopled." 

" You are more conversant with such matters than it is usual 
to find young ladies. Miss Bayard. I ascribe this to your being 
so good a whig, which is but another name for a patriot." 

Pris. blushed again, and she now seemed disposed to be 
silent ; though I could still detect an interest in the subject that 
to me was quite unaccountable. Kate probably saw this too, 
for she continued to converse about my journey, even after 
her friend had drawn a little on one side ; and that, too, in a 
manner which seemed to say she was done. 

" Who is the queer old man of whom I have heard you speak, 
Mordaunt," my sister demanded, "and with whom you have 
lately had some correspondence about these lands?" 

*' I suppose you mean my former comrade, the 'Chain- 
bearer.' There was a captain in our regiment of the name of 
Coejemans, who bears this appellation, and who has contracted 
to get the necessary surveys made, though he fills the humble 
post of a * chainbearer' himself, not being competent to make 
the calculations." 

"How can a mere chainbearer contract for a full survey?" 
asked Tom Bayard, who had joined the party, and had been 
listening to the discourse. " The chainbearers, in general, are 
but common laborers, and are perfectly irresponsible." 

" That is true, as a rule ; but my old friend forms an excep- 
tion. He set out for a surveyor, but having no head for sines, 
and CO- sines, and tangents, he was obliged to lower his preten- 
sions to the humbler duty he now discharges. Still, he hi*s 



80 THECIIAINBEARER. 

long contracted for jobs of this nature, and gets as mucli as lie 
can do, hiring surveyors himself, the owners of property having 
the utmost confidence in his measurements. Let me tell you, 
the man who carries chain is not the least important member of 
a surveying party in the woods. Old Andries is as honest as 
noon-day, and every body has faith in him." 

" His true name is Coejemans, I think you said, Major Little- 
page ?" asked Priscilla, as it struck me assuming an air of 
indifference. 

"It is, Andries Coejemans; and his family is reputable, if 
not absolutely of a high caste. But the old man is so inveterate 
a woodsman, that nothing but patriotism, and his whig pro- 
pensities, could have drawn him out into the open country. 
After serving most gallantly through the whole war, he has gone 
back to his chains ; and many is the joke he has about remain- 
ing still in chains, after fighting so long and so often in the 
cause of liberty." 

Priscilla appeared to hesitate — I thought her color increased 
a little — then she asked the question that was apparently upper- 
most in her thoughts, with surprising steadiness. 

" Did you ever see the ' Chainbearer's' niece, Dus Malbone?" 

This question not a little surprised me; for, though I had 
never seen Ursula, the uncle had talked so much to me of his 
ward, that I almost fancied she was an intimate acquaintance. 
It often happens that we hear so much of certain persons, that 
we think and speak of them as of those we know ; and had 
Miss Bayard questioned me of one of my late comrades in 
the service, I should not have been a whit more startled 
than I was at hearing her pronounce the familiar name of Dus 
Malbone. 

"Where, in the name of all that is curious, did you ever 
hear of such a person !" I exclaimed, a little inconsiderately, 
since the world was certainly wide enough to admit of two young 
women's being acquainted, without my consent ; more especially 
as one of them I had never seen, and the other I had met, for 
the first time, only a fortnight before. " Old Andries was 



TIIECHAINBEARER. 81 

always speaking to me of his niece ; but I could not suppose 
she was an acquaintance of one of your position in life !" 

" Notwithstanding, we were something more than school- 
fellows; — for we were, and I trust are still, very, very good 
friends. I like Dus exceedingly, though she is quite as singu- 
lar, in her way, as I have heard her uncle described to be, in his." 

"This is odd! — Will you allow me to ask one question? — 
You will think it singular, perhaps, after what you have just 
told me — but curiosity will get the better of my manners — is 
Dus Malbone a lady — the equal and companion of such a person 
as Miss Priscilla Bayard ?" 

**That is a question not so easily answered, perhaps; since, 
in some respects, she is greatly the superior of any young 
woman I know. Her family, I have always heard, was very 
good on both sides ; she is poor, poor even to poverty, I fear, 
now." — Here Pris. paused; there was a tremor in her voice, 
even, and I detected tears starting to her eyes. ** Poor Dus !" 
she continued — " she had much to support, in the way of 
poverty, even while at school ; where she was, indeed, as a 
dependent, rather than as a boarder ; but no one, among us all, 
could presume to offer her favors. I was afraid even to ask her 
to accept a ribbon, as I should not hesitate to do to Kate here, 
or any other young lady with whom I was intimate. I never 
knew a nobler-minded girl than Ursula Malbone, though few 
persons understand her, I think." 

"This is old Andries over again! He was poor enough, 
heaven knows ; and I have known him actually suffer, in order 
to do his duty by this girl, and to make a proper appearance 
at the same time, as a captain in the New York line ; yet none 
of us, not even my father, could ever induce him to borrow a 
single dollar. He would give, but he would not receive." 

" I can believe this readily, it is so like Dus ! If she has 
lier peculiarities, she has noble qualities enough i,o redeem 
a thousand foibles; Still, I would not have you to think Ursula 
Malbone is not an excellent creature in all respects, though she 
certainly has her peculiarities." 



82 THE CHAINBEARER. 

*' Which, doubtless, she has inherited from the Coejemans, 
as her uncle, the Chainbearer, has his peculiarities too." 

" The Malbones have none of the blood of the Coejemans," 
answered the lady, quickly ; 'Hhough it is respectable, and not 
to be ashamed of. Dus Malbone's mother was only half-sister 
to Captain Coejemans, and they had different fathers." 

I thought Pris. looked a little confused, and as if she were 
sorry she had said so much on the subject at all, the instant she 
had betrayed so much intimacy with the Malbone genealogy ; 
for she shrunk back, plucked a rose, and walked away smelling 
the flower, like one who was indisposed to say any more on the 
subject. A summons to breakfast, however, would otherwise 
have interrupted us, and no more was said about the Chain- 
bearer, and his marvellous niece, Dus Malbone. As soon as 
the meal was ended, our horses were brought round, and Kate 
and I took our leave, Jaap having preceded us as usual, an hour 
or more, with our luggage. The reader is not to suppose that 
we always moved in the saddle, in that day ; on the contrary, 
my mother had a veiy neat chaise, in which she used to drive 
about the country, with a mounted postilion ; my father had 
a phaeton, and in town we actually kept a chariot ; for the 
union of the Mordaunt and Littlepage properties had made us 
very comfortable, and comfortably Ave lived. But young ladies 
liked the saddle twenty-five years ago, more than they do to- 
day ; and Kate, being a capital horsewoman, like her mother 
before her, we were often out together. It was choice, then, 
and not necessity, a little aided by bad roads, perhaps, that 
induced us to ride across to Satanstoe so often, when we wished 
to visit our grandmother. 

I kissed my dear old parent very affectionately at parting, 
for I was to see her no more that summer ; and I got her bless- 
ing in return. As for Tom Bayard, a warm, brotherly shake 
of the han(^ sufficed, inasmuch as it was pretty certain I should 
see him at Lilacsbush before I left home. Approaching his 
sister, who held out her hand to me, in a friendly manner, I 
said as I took it — 



THECHAINBEARER. 83 

" I hope tliis is not the last time I am to see you, before I 
start for the new countries, Miss Bayard. You owe my sister a 
visit, I believe, and I shall trust to that debt for another oppor- 
tunity of saying the unpleasant word * farewell.' " 

" This is not the way to win a lady's heart, Mordaunt," cried 
Kate, gayly. *' It is only fifteen miles from your father's door 
to the Hickories, you ought to know, sir; and you have a 
standing invitation to darken its door with your military form." 

*' From both my father and brother" — put in Priscilla, a 
little hastily. ** They will always be happy to see Major Little- 
page, most certainly." 

''And why not from yourself, Miss Prude," added Kate, 
who seemed bent on causing her friend some confusion. *' We 
are not, now, such total strangers to each other, as to render 
that little grace improper." 

" When I am mistress of a house of my own, should that 
day ever arrive, I shall take care not to lose my reputation for 
hospitality," answered Pris., determined not to be caught, '' by 
neglecting to include all the Littlepage family in my invitations. 
Until then, Tom's and papa's welcomes must suffice." 

The girl looked amazingly lovely all this time, and stood the 
smiles of those around her with a self-possession that showed 
me she knew perfectly well what she was about. I was never 
more at a loss how to understand a young woman, and it is 
very possible, had I remained near her for a month longer, the 
interest such uncertainty is apt to awaken might have sent me 
away desperately in love. But Providence had determined 
otherwise. 

During our ride toward the 'Bush, my sister, with proper 
blushes and a becoming hesitation, let me into the secret of her 
having accepted Tom Bayard. They were not to be married 
until after my return from the north, an event that was expected 
to take place in the ensuing autumn. 

" Then I am to lose you, Kate, almost as soon as I find you," 
I said, a little despondingly. 

" Not lose me, brother ; no, no, not lose mc, but find me, 



84 THE CHAINBEARER. 

more than ever. I am to be transplanted into a family whither 
you will soon be coming to seek a wife, yourself." 

*' Were I to come, what reason have I for supposing it would 
be successful ?" 

*'That is a question you have no right to ask. Did I even 
know of any particular reason for believing your reception 
would be favorable, you cannot believe me sufficiently treach- 
erous to betray my friend. Young ladies are not of the facility 
of character you seem to suppose, sir ; and no method but the 
direct one will succeed. 1 have no other reason for believing 
you would succeed, than the facts that you are an agreeable, 
good-looking youth, however, of unexceptionable family and 
fortune, living quite near the Hickories, and of a suitable age, 
temper, habits, character, &c. &c. &c. Are not these reasons 
sufficient to encourage you to persevere, my brave major?" 

** Perseverance implies commencement, and I have not yet 
commenced. I scarcely know what to make of your friend, 
child ; she is either the perfection of nature and simplicity, or 
the perfection of art." 

"Art! Pris. Bayard artful! Mordaunt, you never did a 
human being greater injustice; a child cannot have greater 
truth and sincerity than Tom's sister." 

*' Ay, that's just it; Tom's sister is ex officio perfection ; but, 
you will please to remember that some children are very art- 
ful. All I can say on the subject at present is, that I like 
Tom, and I like his parents ; but I do not know what to think 
of your friend." 

Kate was a little offended, so she made me no answer. Her 
good-humor returned, however, before we had gone far^ and 
the rest of our ride passed pleasantly enough, no allusions 
being made to any of the name of Bayard ; though, I dare say, 
my companion thought a great deal of a certain Tom, of that 
name, as I certainly did of his handsome and inexplicable 
sister. 

At the Kingsbridge Inn, we had another short brush with 
that untiring gossip, its landlady. 



THE CHAIN BEARER. 85 

"A pleasant time it lias been over at the 'Toe, I dares to 
say," exclaimed Mrs. Light, tlie instant she thrust her head out 
of the door ; "a most agreeable and amusing time both for the 
young gentleman and for the young lady. Mr. Thomas Bayai'd 
and Miss Pris. Bayard have been with you, days and days, and 
old Madam Littlepage is delighted. Oh ! the 'Toe has always 
been a happy house, and happy faces have I long been used to 
see come out of it, and happy faces do I see to-day ! Yes, 
yes ; the 'Toe has always sent happy, contented faces down the 
road ; and a happy roof it has been, by all accounts, these hun- 
dred years." 

I dare say this was all true enough. I have always heard 
that the old place contained contented hearts ; and contented 
hearts make happy faces. Kate's face was happiness itself, as 
she sat in the saddle listening to the crone ; and my countenance 
is not one of ill-nature. The '* 'Toe was ever a happy house !" 
It recalls old times, to hear a house thus familiarly spoken of; 
for a set is rising up among us which is vastly too genteel to 
admit that any one, man, woman, child, or Satan, ever had a 
member so homely as a 'Toe. 



bCi THE CIIAINBEARER. 



CHAPTER YI. 

"They love their land, because it is their owii, 
And scorn to give aught other reason why ; 
"Would shake hands with a king upon his throne, 
And think it kindness to his majesty ; 
A stubborn race, fearing and flattering none, 
Such are they nurtured, such they live and die; 
All, but a few apostates, who are meddling 
With merchandise, pounds, shillings, pence and peddling." 

Halleck. 

A DAY or two after my return to Lilacsbusli, was presented 
one of those family scenes whicli are so common in tlie genial 
month of June, on the shores of the glorious old Hudson. I 
call the river the old Hudson, for it is quite as old as the Tiber, 
though the world has not talked of it as much, or as long. A 
thousand years hence, this stream will be known over the whole 
earth ; and men will speak of it as they now speak of the 
Danube and the Rhine. As good wine may not be made on 
its banks as is made on the acclivities of the latter river ; but, 
even to-day, better, both as to quality and variety, is actually 
drunk. On this last point, all intelligent travellers agree. 

There stands a noble linden on the lawn of Lilacsbush, at no 
great distance from the house, and necessarily within a short 
distance of the water. The tree had been planted there by 
my grandmother Mordaunt's father, to whom the place once 
belonged ; and it was admirably placed for the purposes of an 
afternoon's lounge. Beneath its shade we often took our des- 
sert and wine, in the warm months; and thither, since their 
return from the army. General Littlepage and Colonel Dirck 
Follock used to carry their pipes, and smoke over a campaign, 
or a bottle, as chance directed the discourse. For that matter, 
no battle-field had ever been so veiled in smoke, as would have 



THE CII AIN C E ARE R. 87 

been the case with the linden in question, could there have been 
a concentration of all the vapor it had seen. 

The afternoon of the day just mentioned, the whole iiimily 
were seated beneath the tree, scattered round, as shade and 
inclination tempted ; though a small table, holding fruits and 
wine, showed that the usual business of the hour had not been 
neglected. The wines were Madeira and claret, those common 
beverages in the country; and the fruits were strawberries, 
cherries, oranges and figs ; the two last imported, of course. It 
was a little too early for us to get pines from the islands, a fruit 
which is so common in its season as to be readily purchased in 
town at the rate of four of a good size for a dollar. But, the 
abundance, and even luxury, of a better sort of the common 
American tables, is no news ; viands, liquors and fruits appear- 
ing on them, that are only known to the very rich and very 
luxurious in the countries of Europe. If the service were only 
as tasteful, and the cooking as good with us, as both are in 
France, for instance, America would be the very paradise of 
the epicure, let superficial travellers say what they please to the 
contrary. I have been abroad in these later times, and speak 
of what I know. 

No one sat at the table, though my father, Colonel Dirck, 
and I were near enough to reach our glasses, at need. My 
mother was next to me, and reasonably close ; for I did not 
smoke, while aunt Mary and Kate had taken post just without 
the influence of the tobacco. On the shore was a large skifl*, 
that contained a tolerably sized trunk or two, and a sort of 
clothes-bag. In the first were a portion of my clothes, while 
those of Jaap filled the bag. The negro himself was stretched 
on the grass, about half-way between the tree and the shore, 
with two or three of his grandchildren rolling about, at his feet. 
In the skiff was his son, seated in readiness to use the sculls, as 
soon as ordered. 

All this arrangement denoted my approaching departure for 
the north. The wind was at the south, and sloops of various 
degrees of promise and speed were appearing round the points, 



88 THE CIIAINBEARER. 

coming on one in the wake of another, as cacli had been able 
to quit the wharves to profit by the breeze. In that day, the 
river had not a tenth part of the craft it now possesses ; but 
still, it had enough to make a little fleet, so near town, and at 
a moment when wind and tide both became favorable. At that 
time, most of the craft on the Hudson belonged up the river, 
and they partook largely of the taste of our Dutch ancestors. 
Notable travellers before the gales, they did very little with foui 
winds, generally requiring from a week to a fortnight to tide it 
down from Albany, with the wind at all from the south. Nev- 
ertheless, few persons thought of making the journey between 
the two largest towns of the state (York and Albany), without 
having recourse to one of these sloops. I was at that moment 
in waiting for the appearance of a certain " Eagle, of Albany, 
Captain Bogert," which was to run in close to Lilacsbush, and 
receive me on board, agreeably to an arrangement previously 
made in town, I was induced to take a passage in this vessel 
from the circumstance that she had a sort of after-cabin that 
was screened by an ample green curtain, an advantage that all 
the vessels which then plied on the river did not possess ; though 
great improvements have been making ever since the period of 
which I am now writing. 

Of course, the interval thus passed in waiting for the ap- 
pearance of the Eagle was filled up, more or less, by discourse. 
Jaap, who was to accompany me in my journey to Ravensnest, 
knew every vessel on the river, as soon as he could see her, and 
we depended on him to let us know when I was to embark, 
though the movements of the sloop herself could not fail to 
give us timely notice of the necessity of taking leave. 

'* I should like exceedingly to pay a visit to old Mrs. Vander 
Hey den, at Kinderhook, Mordaunt," said my mother, after one 
of the frequent pauses that occurred in the discourse. *' She is 
a relation, and I feel a great regard for her ; so much the more, 
from the circumstance of her being associated in my mind with 
that frightful night on the river, of which you have heard me 
speak." 



THECIIAINBEARER. £9 

As my motlier ceased speaking, she glanced affectionately 
toward tlic general, who returned the look, as he returned all 
my mother's looks, with one filled with manly tenderness. A 
more united couple than my parents never existed. They 
seemed to me ordinarily to have but one mind between them ; 
and when there did occur any slight difference of opinion, the 
question was not which should prevail, but which should yield. 
Of the two, my mother may have had the most native intellect, 
though the general was a fine, manly, sensible person, and was 
very universally respected. 

**It might be well, Anneke," said my father, "if the major 
were to pay a visit to poor Guert's grave, and see if the stones 
are up, and that the place is kept as it should be. I have not 
been there since the year '68, when it looked as if a friendly 
eye might do some good at no distant day." 

This was said in a low voice, purposely to prevent aunt Mary 
from hearing it ; and, as she was a little deaf, it is probable the 
intention was successful. Not so, however, with Colonel Dirck, 
Avho drew the pipe from his mouth, and sat attentively listening, 
in the manner of one who felt great interest in the subject. 
Another pause succeeded. 

*' T'en t'ereist my Lort Howe, Corny," observed the colonel; 
*' how is it wit' his grave ?" 

*' Oh! the colony took good care of that. They buried him 
in the main aisle of St. Peter's, I believe ; and no doubt all is 
right with him. As for the other, major, it might be well to 
look at it." 

** Great changes have taken place at Albany, since we were 
there as young people!" observed my mother, thoughtfully. 
*' The Cuylers are much broken up by the revolution, while the 
Schuylers have grown greater than ever. Poor aunt Schuyler, 
she is no longer living to welcome a son of ours !" 

*' Time will bring about such changes, my love ; and we can 
only be thankful that so many of us remain, after so long and 
bloody a war." 

I saw my mother's lips move, and I knew she was murmuring 



90 THE C II A I N B E A R E R . 

a thanksgiving to tlie power winch had preserved lier husband 
and son through the late struggle. 

"You will write as often as opportunities occur, Mordaunt," 
said that dear parent, after a longer pause than usual. "Now 
there is peace, I can hope to get your letters with some little 
regularity," 

"They tell me, cousin Anneke" — for so the colonel always 
called my mother when we were alone — " They tell me, cousin 
Anneke," said Colonel Dirck, " t'at t'ey actually mean to have 
a mail free times a week petween Alpany and York ! Tere ist 
no knowing, general, what t'is glorious revolution will not do 
for us !" 

" If it bring me letters three times a week from those I love," 
rejoined my mother, " I am sure my patriotism will be greatly 
increased. How will letters get out from Raven snest to the 
older parts of the colony — I should say, state, Mordaunt ?" 

" I must trust to the settlers for that. Hundreds of Yankees, 
they tell me, are out looking for farms this summer. I may use 
some of them for messengers." 

" Don't trust 'em too much, or too many" — growled Colonel 
Dirck, who had the old Dutch grudge against our eastern breth- 
ren. " See how they behav't to Schuyler." 

" Yes," said my father, replenishing his pipe, " they might 
have manifested more justice and less prejudice to wise Philip ; 
but prejudices will exist, all over the world. Even Washing- 
ton has had his share." 

"T'at is a great man!" exclaimed Colonel Dirck, with em- 
phasis, and in the manner of one who felt certain of his point. 
" A ferry great man!" 

"No one will dispute with you, colonel, on that subject; 
but have you no message to send to our old comrade, Andries 
Coejemans ? He must have been at Mooseridge, with his party 
of surveyors, now, near a twelvemonth, and I'll warrant you has 
thoroughly looked up the old boundaries, so as to be ready for 
Mordaunt to start afresh, as soon as the boy reaches the patent." 

" I hope he has not hiret a Yankee surveyor. Corny," put in 



THE CIIAINBEAREK. 91 

tlie colonel, in some little alarm. " If one of t'cm animals gets 
upon the tract, lie will manage to carry off half of the lant in 
his compass-box ! I hope olt Andries knows petter." 

" I dare say he'll manage to keep all the land, as well as to 
survey it. It is a thousand pities the captain has no head for 
figures ; for his honesty would have made his fortune. But I 
have seen him tried, and know it will not do. He was a week 
once making up an account of some stores received from head- 
quarters, and the nearest he could get to the result was twenty- 
five per cent, out of the way." 

** I would sooner trust Andries Coejemans to survey my 
property, figures or no figures," cried Colonel Dirck positively, 
"than any dominie in New England." 

*' Well, that is as one thinks," returned my father, tasting the 
Madeira. "For my part, I shall be satisfied with the surveyor 
he may happen to select, even though he should be a Yankee. 
Andries is shrewd, if he be no calculator ; and I dare to say he 
has engaged a suitable man. Having taken the job at a liberal 
price, he is too honest a fellow not to hire a proper person to 
do the head-work. As for all the rest, I would trust him as 
soon as I would trust any man in America." 

"Tat is gospel. Mordaunt will haf an eye on matters too, 
seein' he has so gTeat an interest in the estate. T'ere is one 
t'ing, major, you must not forget. Five hundred goot acres 
must be surveyed ofi" for sister Anneke, and five hundred for 
pretty Kate, here. As soon as t'at is done, the general and I 
will give each of the gals a deet." 

"Thank you, Dirck," said my father, with feeling. "TU 
not refuse the land for the girls, who may be glad enough to 
own it some time or other." 

' "It's no great matter now, Corny; put, as you say, it may 
be of use one day. Suppose we make old Andries a present of 
a farm, in his pargain." 

" With all my heart," cried my father, quickly. " A couple 
of hundred acres might make him comfortable for the rest of 
his days. I thank you for the hint, Dirck, and we will let 



92 THE CIIAINBEARER. 

Mordaiint choose the lot, and send us the description, that we 
may prepare the deed." 

'' You forget, general, that the Chainbearer has, or will have 
his military lot, as a captain," I ventured to remark. "Besides, 
land will be of little use to him, unless it might be to measure 
it. I doubt if the old man would not prefer going without his 
dinner, to hoeing a hill of potatoes." 

"An dries had three slaves while he was with us; a man, a 
woman, and their daughter," returned my father. " He would 
not sell them, he said, on any consideration ; and I have known 
him actually suffering for money when he was too proud to 
accept it from his friends, and too benevolent to part with family 
slaves, in order to raise it. * They were born Coejemans,' he 
always said, ' as much as I was born one myself, and they shall 
die Coejemans.' He doubtless has these people with him, at 
the Ridge, where you will find them all encamped, near some 
spring, with garden-stuff and other small things growing around 
him, if he can find open land enough for such a purpose. He 
has permission to cut and till at pleasure." 

" This is agreeable news to me, general," I answered, "since 
it promises a sort of home. If the Chainbearer has really 
these blacks with him, and has hutted judiciously, I dare say 
we shall have quite as comfortable a time as many of those we 
passed together in camp. Then, I shall carry my flute with 
me ; for Miss Priscilla Bayard has given me reason to expect a 
very wonderful creature in Dus, the niece, of which old Andries 
used to talk so much. You remember to have heard the Chain- 
bearer speak of such a person, I dare say, sir ; for he was quite 
fond of mentioning her." 

" Perfectly well ; Dus Malbone was a sort of toast among 
the young men of the regiment at one time, though no one 
of them all ever could get a sight of her, by hook or by crook." 

Happening to turn my head at that moment, I found my dear 
mother's eyes turned curiously on me ; brought there, I fancy, 
by the allusion to Tom's sister. 

"What does Priscilla Bayard know of this Chainbearer's 



THE C U A I N B E A R E K . 93 

niece?" that beloved parent asked, as soon as slie perceived that 
her look had attracted my attention. 

"A great deal, it would seem ; since she tells me they are 
fast friends; quite as great, I should judge from Miss Bayard's 
language and manner, as Kate and herself." 

" That can scarcely be," returned my mother, slightly smil- 
ing, *' since there the principal reason must be wanting. Then, 
this Dus can hardly be Priscilla Bayard's equal." 

*' One never knows such a thing, mother, until he has had an 
opportunity of making comparisons ; though Miss Bayard her- 
self says Dus is much her superior in many things. I am sure 
lier uncle is my superior in some respects ; in carrying chain, 
particularly so." 

"Ay, but scarcely in station, Mordaunt." 

*' He was the senior captain of the regiment." 

"True; but revolutions are revolutions. What I mean is, 
that your Chainbearer can hardly be a gentleman." 

'^ That is a point not to be decided in a breath. He is, and 
he is not. Old Andries is of a respectable family, though but 
indifferently educated. Men vastly his inferiors in birth, in 
habits, in the general notions of the caste, in the New England 
states, are greatly his superiors in knowledge. Nevertheless, 
while we must all admit how necessary a certain amount of edu- 
cation has become, at the present time, to make a gentleman, I 
think every gentleman will allow hundreds among us have de- 
grees in their pockets with small claims to belong to the class. 
Three or four centuries ago, I should have answered that old 
Andries was a gentleman, though he had to bite the wax with 
his teeth and make a cross, for want of a better signature." 

"And he what you call a chainbearer, Mordaunt!'* ex- 
claimed my sister. 

" As well as late senior captain in your father's regiment. 
Miss Littlepage. But, no matter, Andries and Dus are such as 
they are, and I shall be glad to have them for companions this 
summer. Jaap is making signals, and I must quit you all. 
Ueigho ! It is very pleasant here, under this linden, and home 



94 THE CIIAINBEARER. 

begins to entwine its fibres around my heart. Never mind ; it 
will soon be autumn, and I shall see the whole of you, I trust, 
as I leave you, well and happy in town." 

My dear, dear mother had tears in her eyes, when she em- 
braced me; so had Kate, who, though she did love Tom 
Bayard most, loved me very warmly too. Aunt Mary kissed 
me, in her quiet but affectionate way ; and I shook hands with 
the gentlemen, who accompanied me down to the boat. I 
could see that my father was affected. Had the war still con- 
tinued, he would have thought nothing of the separation ; but 
in that piping time of peace, it seemed to come unseason- 
ably. 

" Now, don't forget the great lots for Anneke and Katrinke," 
said Colonel Dirck, as we descended to the shore. "Let An- 
dries pick out some of the best of the lant, t'at is well watered 
and timbered, and we'll call the lots after the gals ; that is a 
goot idea. Corny." 

" Excellent, my friend. Mordaunt, my son, if you come 
across any places that look like graves, I wish you would set 
up marks by which they may be knovi^n. It is true, a quarter 
of a century or more makes many changes in the woods ; and 
it is quite likely no such remains will be found." 

" A quarter of a century in the American forests, sir," I an- 
swered, "is somewhat like the same period in the wanderings 
of a comet ; lost, in the numberless years of its growth. A 
single tree will sometimes outlast the generations of an entire 
nation." 

" You wilt rememper, Mordaunt, that I wilt haf no Yankee 
tenants on my estate. Your father may lease 'em one-half of a 
lot, if he please ; but I will not lease t'other." 

"As you are tenants in common, gentlemen," I answered, 
«imiling, " it will not be easy to separate the interests in thia 
manner. I believe I understand you, however; I am to sell the 
lands of Mooseridge, or covenant to sell, as your attorney, while 
I follow out my grandfather Mordaunt's ideas, and lease those 
that are not yet leased, on my own estate. This will at least 



THE C II A I N C E A RE R. 95 

give the settlers a choice, and those who do not like ou(i plan 
of obtaining their farms, may adopt the other." 

I now shook hands again with the gentlemen, and stepping 
into the skiff, we pulled away from the shore. Jaap had made 
this movement in good season, and we were compelled to row 
a quarter of a mile down the river to meet the sloop. Al- 
though the wind was perfectly fair, it was not so fresh as ^o 
induce Mr. Bogert to round-to ; but throwing us a rope, it was 
caught, when we were safely transferred, bag and baggage, to the 
decks of the Eagle. 

Captain Bogert was smoking at the helm, when he returned 
my salute. Removing the pipe, after a puff or two, he pointed 
with the stem toward the group on the shore, and inquired if I 
wished to say "good-by." 

''^ Allponny''^ — so the Dutch were wont to pronounce the 
name of their town in the last century — " is a long way off," he 
said, " and maype you woult like to see the frients ag'in." 

This business of wavino^ hats and handkerchiefs is a reo-ular 
thing on the Hudson, and I expressed my willingness to comply 
with the usage, as a matter of course.* In consequence, Mr. 
Bogert deliberately sheered in toward the shore, and I saw 
the whole family collecting on a low rock, near the water, to 
take the final look. In the background stood the Satanstoes, a 
dark, woolly group, including Mrs. Jaap, and two generations 
of descendants. The whites were weeping ; that is to say, my 
dear mother and Kate ; and the blacks were laughing, though 
the old lady kept her teeth to herself about as much as she 



* Such were the notions of Mr. Mordaunt Littlepage, at the conoraencement of thie 
century, and such his feeling shortly after the peace of 17S3. Nothing of the sort 
more completely illustrates the general change that has come over the land, in habits 
and material things, than the difference between the movements of that day and those 
of our own. Then, the departure of a sloop, or the embarkation of a passenger along 
the shore, brought parties to the wharves, and wavings of handkerchiefs, as if those 
who were left behind felt a lingering wish to sec the last of their friends. Now, liter- 
ally thousands come and go daily, passing about as many hours on the Hudson as their 
grandfathers passed days; and the shaking of hands and leave-takings are usually 
done at home. It would be a bold woman who would think now of waving a hand 
kerchief to a Hudson river steamboat! — Editor. 



06 THE CIIAINBEARER. 

exposed tlieni. A sensation almost invariably produces laugh- 
ter with a negro, the only exceptions being on occasions of 
singular gravity. 

I believe, if the truth were known, Mr. Bogert greatly exult- 
ed in the stately movement of his sloop, as she brushed along 
the shore, at no great distance from the rocks, with her main- 
boom guyed out to starboard, and studding-sail boom to port. 
The flying-topsail, too, was set ; and the Eagle m'ght be said 
to be moving in all her glory. She went so near the rocks, 
too, as if she despised danger ! Those were not the days of 
close calculations that have succeeded. Then, an Albany 
skipper did not mind losing a hundred or two feet of dis- 
tance in making his run ; whereas, now, it would not be an 
easy matter to persuade a Liverpool trader to turn as much 
aside in order to speak a stranger in the centre of the Atlantic ; 
unless, indeed, he happened to want to get the other's longi- 
tude. 

As the sloop swept past the rocks, I got bows, waving of hats 
and handkerchiefs, and good wishes enough to last the whole 
voyage. Ev^en Jaap had his share; and "good-by, Jaap," 
came to my ears, from even the sweet voice of Kate. Away we 
went, in stately Dutch movement, slow but sure. In ten minutes 
Lilacsbush was behind us, and I was once more alone in the 
world, for months to come. 

There was now time to look about me, and to ascertain who 
were my companions in this voyage. The skipper and crew 
were as usual the masters; and the pilots, both whites, and 
both of Dutch extraction, an old wrinkled negro, who had 
passed his life on the Hudson as a foremast-hand, and two 
younger blacks, one of whom was what was dignified with the 
name of cabin-steward. Then there were numerous passengers; 
some of whom appeared to belong to the upper classes. They 
were of both sexes, but all were strangers to me. On the main- 
deck were six or eight sturdy, decent, quiet, respectable-looking 
laborers, who were evidently of the class of husbandmow. 
Their packs were lying in a pile, near the fo( ( of the mast, and 



THE CHAIN BEARER. 97 

I did not fail to observe that there were as many axes as there 
were packs. 

The American axe ! It has made more real and lastinof con- 
quests than the sword of any warlike people that ever lived ; 
but they have been conquests that have left civilization in their 
train instead of havoc and desolation. More than a million of 
square miles of territory* have been opened up from the shades 
of the virgin forest, to admit the warmth of the sun ; and cul- 
ture and abundance have been spread where the beast of the 
forest so lately roamed, hunted by the savage. Most of this, 
too, has been effected between the day when I went on board 
the Eagle, and that on which I am now writing. A brief quar- 
ter of a century has seen these wonderful changes wrought ; and 
at the bottom of them all lies this beautiful, well-prized, ready, 
and efficient implement, the American axe ! 

It would not be easy to give the reader a clear notion of the 
manner in which the young men and men of all ages of the 
older portions of the new republic poured into the woods to 
commence the business of felling the forests, and laying bare 
the secrets of nature, as soon as the nation rose from beneath 
the pressure of war, to enjoy the freedom of peace. The his- 
tory of that day in New York, which state led the van in the 
righteous strife of improvement, and has ever since so nobly 
maintained its vantage-ground, has not yet been written. When 
it is properly recorded, names will be rescued from oblivion 
that better deserve statues and niches in the temple of national 
glory, than those of many who have merely got the start of 
them by means of the greater facility with which the public 
mind is led away in the train of brilliant exploits, than it is 
made sensible of the merits of those that are humane and 
useful. 

It was not usual for settlers, as it has become the practice to 
term those who first take up and establish themselves on new 
lands, to make their journeys from the neighborhood of the sea 

* More tban two millions at the present day. 



98 THE CIIAINBEAEEK. 

to the interior, other than by land ; but a few passed out of 
Connecticut by the way of New York, and thence up the river 
in sloops. Of this character were those found on board the 
Eagle. In all, we had seven of these men, who got into dis- 
course with me the first day of our passage, and I was a little 
sm'prised at discovering how much they already knew of me, 
and of my movements. Jaap, however, soon suggested himself 
to my mind, as the probable means of the intelligence they 
had gleaned ; and on inquiry, such I ascertained was the fact. 

The curiosity and the questioning propensities of the people 
of New England, have been so generally admitted by writers 
and commentators on American character, that I suppose one 
has a right to assume the truth of the characteristics. I have 
heard various ways of accounting for them ; and among others, 
the circumstance of their disposition to emigrate, which brings 
with it the necessity of inquiring after the welfare of friends at 
a distance. It appears to me, however, this is taking a very 
narrow view of the cause, which I attribute to the general 
activity of mind among a people little restrained by the con- 
ventional usages of more sophisticated conditions of society. 
The practice of referring so much to the common mind, too, 
has a great influence on all the opinions of this peculiar portion 
of the American population, seeming to confer the right to 
inquire into matters that are elsewhere protected by the sacred 
feeling of individual privacy. 

Let this be as it might, my axe-men had contrived to get out 
of Jaap all he knew about Ravensnest and Mooseridge, as well 
as my motives in making the present journey. This informa- 
tion obtained, they were not slow in introducing themselves to 
me, and of asking the questions that were uppermost in their 
minds. Of course, I made such answers as were called for by 
the case, and we established a sort of business acquaintance 
between us, the very first day. The voyage lasting several 
days, by the time we reached Albany, pretty much all that 
could be said on such a subject had been uttered by one side 
or the other. 



THE CIIAINBEAREIl. 99 

As respected Ravensnest, my own property, my grandfather 
had requested in his will that the farms might be leased, having 
an eye to my children's profit, rather than to mine. His request 
was a law to me, and I had fully determined to oflfer the unoc- 
cupied lands of that estate, or quite three-fourths of the whole 
patent, on leases similar in their conditions to those which had 
already been granted. On the other hand, it was the intention 
to part with the lots of Mooseridge, in fee. These conditions 
were made known to the axe-men, as my first essay in settling 
a new country ; and, contrary to what had been my expectation, 
I soon discovered that these adventurers inclined more to the 
leases than to the deeds. It is true, I expected a small pay- 
ment down, in the case of each absolute sale, while I was pre- 
pared to grant leases, for three lives, at very low rents at the 
best ; and in the cases of a large proportion of the lots, those 
that were the least eligible by situation, or through their quality, 
to grant them leases without any rent at all, for the few first 
years of their occupation. These last advantages, and the 
opportunity of possessing lands a goodly term of years, for rents 
that were put as low as a shilling an acre, were strong induce- 
ments, as I soon discovered, with those who earned all they 
were worth in their packs, and who thus reserved the little 
money they possessed to supply the wants of their future hus- 
bandry. 

"We talked these matters over during the week w« were on 
board the sloop ; and by the time we came in sight of the 
steeples of Albany, my men's minds were made up to follow 
me to the Nest. These steeples were then two in number, viz. : 
that of the English church, that stood near the margin of the 
town, against the hill ; and that of the Dutch church, which 
occupied an humbler site, on the low land, and could scarcely 
be seen rising above the pointed roofs of the adjacent houses; 
though these last, themselves, were neither particularly high nor 
particularly imposing. 



100 THE C II A I N B E A R E R . 



CHAPTER VII. 



** Who is that graceful female her© 
"With yon red hunter of the deer f 
Of gentle mien and shape, she seemo 

For civil halls design'd ; 
Yet with the stately savage walks, 

As she were of his kind." 

riXCKNET. 



I MADE little stay in Albany, but, giving tbe direction to the 
patent to the axe-men, left it the very day of our arrival. There 
were very few public conveyances in that early day, and I was 
obliged to hire a wagon to transport Jaap and myself, with our 
effects, to Ravensnest. A sort of dull calm had come over the 
country, after the struggles of the late war ; but one interest in 
it appearing to be alive and very active. That interest, fortu- 
nately for me, appeared to be the business of " land-hunting" 
and " settling." Of this, I had sufficient proof in Albany itself; 
it being difficult to enter the principal street of that town, and 
not find in it more or less of these adventurers, the emblems of 
whose pursuit were the pack and the axe. Nine out of ten 
came from the eastern or New England states ; then the most 
peopled, while they were not very fortunate in either soil or 
climate. 

We were two days in reaching Ravensnest, a property which 
I had owned for several years, but which I now saw for the 
first time. My grandfather had left a sort of agent on the 
spot, a person of the name of Jason Newcome, who was of my 
father the general's age, and who had once been a school- 
master in the neighborhood of Satanstoe. This agent had 
leased extensively himself, and was said to be the occupant of 
the only mills, of any moment, on the property. With him 



THE CH AINBE ARER. 101 

a correspondence had been maintained ; and once or twice dur- 
ing the war my father had managed to have an interview with 
this representative of his and my interests. As for myself, I 
was now to see him for the first time. AVe knew each other by 
reputation only ; and certain passages in the agency had induced 
me to give Mr. Newcome notice that it was my intention to 
make a change in the management of the property. 

Any one who is familiar with the aspect of things in what 
is called a *' new country" in America, must be well aware it is 
not very inviting. The lovers of the picturesque can have little 
satisfaction in looking even on the finest natural scenery at such 
moments ; the labor that has been efiected usually having done 
so much to mar the beauties of nature, without having yet had 
time to supply the deficiencies by those of art. Piles of charred 
or half-burned logs ; fields covered with stumps, or ragged with 
stubs ; fences of the rudest sorts, and filled with brambles; 
buildings of the meanest character ; deserted clearings ; and all 
the other signs of a state of things in which there is a manifest 
and constant struggle between immediate necessity and future 
expediency, are not calculated to satisfy either the hopes or the 
tastes. Occasionally a different state of things, however, under 
circumstances peculiarly favorable, does exist ; and it may be 
well to allude to it, lest the reader form but a single picture of 
this transition state of American life. When the commerce 
of the country is active, and there is a demand for the products 
of new lands, a settlement often presents a scene of activity 
in which the elements of a thriving prosperity make themselves 
apparent amid the smoke of fallows, and the rudeness of border 
life. Neither, however, was the case at Ravensnest when I first 
visited the place ; though the last was to a certain extent, its 
condition two or three years later, or after the great European 
war brought its wheat and ashes into active demand. 

I found but few more signs of cultivation, between the point 
where I left the great northern road and the bounds of the 
patent, than had been found by my father, as he had described 
them to me in his first visit, which took place a quarter of a 



102 THE CTI AINBE ARER. 

century earlier than this of mine. There was one log tavern, it 
is true, in the space mentioned; but it afforded nothing to 
drink but rum, and nothing to eat but salted pork and potatoes, 
the day I stopped there to dine. But there were times and 
seasons when, by means of venison, wild-fowl and fish, a luxu- 
rious board might have been spread. That this was not the 
opinion of my landlady, nevertheless, was apparent from the 
remarks she made while I was at table. 

"You are lucky, Major Littlepage," she said, "in not having 
come among us in one of what I call our ' starving times' — 
and awful times they be, if a body may say what she thinks 
on 'em." 

" Starvation is a serious matter at any time," I answered, 
"though I did not know you were ever reduced to such diffi- 
culties in a country as rich and abundant as this." 

" Of what use is riches and abundance if a man will do noth- 
ing but fish and shoot? I've seen the day when there wasn't 
a mouthful to eat in this house, but a dozen or two of squabs, 
a string of brook trout, and maybe a deer, or a salmon from 
one of the lakes." 

" A little bread would have been a welcome addition to such 
a meal." 

" Oh ! as for bread, I count that for nothin'. We always 
have bread and potatoes enough ; but I hold a family to be in 
a desperate way, when the mother can see the bottom of the 
pork-barrel. Give me the children that's raised on good sound 
pork, afore all the game in the country. Game's good as a 
relish, and so's bread ; but pork is the staff of life ! To have 
good pork, a body must have good corn ; and good corn needs 
hoeing ; and a hoe isn't a fish-pole, or a gun. No, my chil- 
dren I calkerlate to bring up on pork, with just as much bread 
and butter as they may want 1" 

This was American poverty as it existed in 1784. Bread, 
butter, and potatoes, ad libitum; but little pork, and no tea. 
Game in abundance in its season ; but the poor man who lived 
on game was supposed to be keeping just as poor an establish- 



THE CHAINBE AREll. 103 

ment as the epicure in town who gives a dinner to his brethren, 
and is compelled to apologize for there being no game in the 
market. Curious to learn more from this woman, I pursued 
the discourse. 

''There are countries, I have read," I continued, *'in which 
the poor do not taste meat of any sort, not even game, from 
the beginning of the year to its end ; and sometimes not even 
bread," 

''Well, Tm no great hand for bread, as I said afore, and 
should eat no great matter of it, so long as I could get pork," 
the woman answered, evidently interested in what I had said ; 
** but I shouldn't like to be without it altogether ; and the 
children, especially, do love to have it with their butter. Liv- 
ing on potatoes alone must be a wild animal sort of a life." 

"Very tame animals do it, and that from dire necessity." 

" Is there any law ag'in their using bread and meat ?" 

" No other law than the one which forbids their using that 
which is the property of another." 

"Good land!" This is a very common American expres- 
sion among the women — " Good land ! Why don't they go to 
work and get in crops, so they might live a little ?" 

" Simply because they have no land to till. The land belongs 
to others, too." 

" I should think they might hire, if they couldn't buy. It's 
about as good to hire as it is to buy — some folks (folk) think 
it's better. Why don't they take land on shares, and Uve ?" 

"Because land itself is not to be had. With us, land is 
abundant ; we have more of it than is necessary, or than will be 
necessary, for ages to come ; perhaps it would be better for our 
civilization were there less of it, but, in the countries of which I 
speakj there are more people than there is land." 

"Well, land is a good thing, I admit, and it's right there 
should be an owner to it ; yet there are folks who would rather 
squat than buy or hire, any day. Squatting comes nat'ral to 
'em." 

" Are there many squatters in this part of the country 2'* 



104 THE CHAIN BEARER. 

The woman looked a little confused, and she did not answer 
me, until she had taken time to reflect on what she should say. 

" Some folks call tts squatters, I s'pose," was the reluctant 
answer, " but / do not. We have bought the betterments of 
a man who hadn't much of a title, I think likely ; but as vje 
bought his betterments fiiirly, Mr. Tinkum" — that was the 
husband's name — " is of opinion that we live under title, as it 
is called. What do you say to it, Major Littlepage ?" 

" I can only say that naught will produce naught; nothing, 
nothing. If the man of whom you purchased owned nothing, 
he could sell nothing. The betterments he called his, were not 
his ; and in purchasing them, you purchased what he did not 
own." 

*'Well, it's no great shakes, if he had'nt any right, sin' 
Tinkum only gi'n an old saddle, that wam't worth two dollars, 
and part of a set of single harness, that I'd defy a conjurer to 
make fit any mule, for the whull right. One year's rent of this 
house is worth all put together, and that twice over, if the 
truth must be said ; and w^e've been in it, now seven years. 
My four youngest were all born under this blessed roof, such as 
it is !" 

''In that case, you will not have much reason to complain, 
when the real owner of the soil appears to claim it. The better- 
ments came cheap, and they will go as cheap." 

" That's just it ; though I don't call ourselves much of squat- 
ters, a'ter all, seein' we have paid suthin' for the betterments. 
They say an old nail, paid in due form, will make a sort of title 
in the highest court of the state. I'm sure the laws should be 
considerate of the poor." 

" Not more so than of the rich. The laws should be equal 
and just ; and the poor are the last people who ought to wish 
them otherwise, since they are certain to be the losers when 
any other principle governs. Rely on it, my good woman, the 
man who is forever preaching the rights of the poor is at bottom 
a rogue, and means to make that cry a stalking-horse for his 
own benefit ; since nothing can serve the poor but severe justice. 



THE CHAINBEARER. 



105 



No class suffers so mucli by a departure from the rule, as the 
rich have a thousand other means of attaining their ends, when 
the way is left clear to them, by setting up any other master 
than the right." 

"I don't know but it may be so; but I don't call ourselves 
squatters. There is dreadful squatters about here, though, and 
on your lands too, by the tell." 

*' On my lands ? I am sorry to hear it, for I shall feel it a 
duty to get rid of them. I very well know that the great abun- 
dance of land that we have in the country, its little comparative 
value, and the distance at which the owners generally reside 
from their estates, have united to render the people careless of 
the rights of those who possess real property ; and I am pre- 
pared to view things as they are among ourselves, rather than 
as they exist in older countries ; but I shall not tolerate squat- 
ters." 

"Well, by all I hear, I think you'll call old Andrioe, the 
Chainbearer, a squatter of the first class. They tell me the old 
chap has come back from the army as fierce as a catamount, 
and that there is no speaking to him, as one used to could, in 
old times." 

"You are, then, an old acquaintance of the Chainbearer?" 

"I should think I was ! Tinkum and I have lived about, a 
good deal, in our day ; and old Andries is a desp'ate hand for 
the woods. He surveyed out for us, once, or half-surveyed, 
another betterment ; but he proved to be a spiteful rogue afore 
he got through with the business ; and we have not set much 
store by him ever sin' that time." 

" The Chainbearer a rogue ! Andries Coejemans any thing 
but an honest man ! You are the first person, Mrs. Tinkum, I 
have ever heard call in question his sterling integrity." 

"Sterling money doesn't pass now, I conclude, sin' it's 
revolution times. We all know which side your family was on 
in the war. Major Littlepage ; so it's no offence to you. A 
proper sharp look-out they had of it here, when you quit col- 
lege : for some said old Herman Mordaunt had ordered m his 



106 THE CHAINBEARER. 

will that you should uphold the king ; and then, most of the 
tenants concluded thcT/ would get the lands altogether. It is a 
sweet thing, major, for a tenant to get his farm without paying 
for it, as you may judge ! Some folks was desp'ate sorry when 
they heern tell that the Littlepages went with the colonies." 

"I hope there are few such knaves on the Kavensnest estate 
as to wish any thing of the sort. But, let me hear an explana- 
tion of your charge against the Chainbearer. I have no great 
concern for my own rights in the patent that I claim." 

The woman had the audacity, or the frankness, to draw a. 
long, regretful sigh, as it might be, in my very face. That 
sigh expressed her regrets that I had not taken part with the 
crown in the last struggle; in which case, I do suppose she 
and Tinkum would have contrived to squat on one of the farms 
of Ravensnest. Having sighed, however, the landlady did not 
disdain to answer. 

** As for the Chainbearer, the simple truth is this," she said. 
** Tinkum hired him to run a line between some betterments 
we had bought, and some that had been bought by a neighbor 
of our'n. This Avas long afore the war, and when titles were 
scarcer than they're gettin' to be now ; some of the landlords 
living across the water. "Well, what do you think the old fellow 
did, major? He first asked for our deeds, and we showed 
them to him ; as good and lawful warrantees as was ever printed 
and filled up by a 'squire. He then set to work, all by himself, 
jobbing the whull survey, as it might be, and a prettier line 
was never run, as far as he went, which was about half-way. I 
thought it would make etarnel peace atween us and our neigh- 
bor, for it had been etarnel war afore that, for three whull 
years; sometimes with clubs, and sometimes with axes, and 
once with scythes. But, somehow — I never know'd how — ^but 
somehow, old Andries found out that the man who deeded to 
us had no deed to himself, or no mortal right to the land, any 
more than that sucking pig you see at the door there ; when 
he gi'n right up, refusing to carry out another link, or p'int 
another needle, he did ! Warn't that being cross-grained and 



THE CHAINBEAKER. 107 

wilfal! No, there's no dependence to be put on the Chain- 
bearer." 

** Wilful in the cause of right, as glorious old Andries always 
is ! I love and honor him all the better for it." 

" La ! — Do you love and honor sich a one as him ! Well, I 
should have expected suthin' else from sich a gentleman as you ! 
I'd no idee Major Littlepage could honor an old, worn-out 
chainbearer, and he a man that couldn't get up in the world, 
too, when he had hands and feet, all on 'em together, on some 
of the very best rounds of the ladder ! Why, I judge that even 
Tinkum would have gone ahead, if he had been born with sich 
a chance." 

"Andries has been a captain in my own regiment, it is 
true, and was once my superior officer; but he served for 
his country's sake, and not for his own. Have you seen him 
lately?" 

" That have we ! He passed here about a twelvemonth ago, 
with his whull party, on their way to squat on your own land, 
or I'm mistaken. There was the Chainbearer himself, two 
helpers, Dus and young Malbone." 

"Young who ?" I asked, with an interest that induced the 
woman to turn her keen, sunken, but sharp gray eyes, intently 
on me. 

" Young Malbone, I said; Bus's brother, and the youngster 
who does all old Andries' 'rithmetic. I suppose you know as 
well as I do, that the Chainbearer can't calkerlate any more 
than a wild goose, and not half as well as a crow. For that 
matter, I've known crows that, in plantin' timfe, would measure 
a field in half the number of minutes that the state surveyor 
would be hours at." 

" This young Malbone, then, is the Chainbearer's nephew ? — 
And he it is who does the surveying ?" 

" He does the 'rithmetic part, and he is a brother of old 
Andries' niec*. I know'd the Coejemans when I was a gal, 
and I've knowL the Malbones longer than I want to know 
them.'* 



JOB THE CIIAINBEARER. 

"Have you any fault to find with tlie family, that you speak 
thus of them?" 

"Nothin' but their desperate pride, which makes them think 
themselves so much better than every body else ; yet they tell 
me, Dus and all on 'em are just as poor as I am myself." 

" Perhaps you mistake their feeling, good woman ; a thing I 
think the more probable, as you seem to fancy money the source 
of their pride, at the very moment you deny their having any. 
Money is a thing on which few persons of cultivated minds pride 
themselves. The purse-proud are, almost invariably, the vulgar 
and ignorant." 

No doubt this was a moral thrown away with such an auditor ; 
bu^ I was provoked ; and when a man is provoked, he is not 
always wise. The answer showed the effect it had produced. 

" I don't pretend to know how that is ; but if it isn't pride, 
what is it that makes Dus Malbone so different from my da'ters ? 
She'd no more think of being like one on 'em, scouring about 
the lots, riding bare-backed, and scampering through the neigh-" 
borhood, than you'd think of cooking my dinner — ^that she 
wouldn't." 

Poor Mrs. Tinkum — or, as she would have been apt to call 
herself. Miss Tinkum ! She had betrayed one of the commonest 
weaknesses of human nature, in thus imputing pride to the 
Chainbearer's niece because the latter behaved differently from 
her and hers. How many persons in this good republic of 
ours judge their neighbors on precisely the same principle ; 
inferring something unsuitable, because it seems to reflect on 
their own behavior ! But by this time, I had got to hear the 
name of Dus with some interest, and I felt disposed to push the 
subject further. 

" Miss Malbone, then," I said, " does not ride bareback ?" 

" La ! major, what in natur' puts it into your head to call the 
gal Miss Malbone! There's no Miss Malbone living sin' her 
own mother died." 

'* Well, Dus Malbone, I mean ; she is above riding bare- 
backed?" 



THE CHAIN BEARER. 109 

"That she is ; even a pillion would be hardly grand enough 
for her, allowing her own brother to use the saddle." 

" Her own brother ? This young surveyor, then, is Dus's 
brother ?" 

" Sort o', and sort o' not, like. They had the same father, 
but different mothers." 

"That explains it; I never heard the Chainbearer speak of 
any nephew, and it seems the young man is not related to him 
at all — he is the Iialf-hTotheT of his niece." 

"Why can't that niece behave like other young women? 
that's the question I ask. My gals hasn't as much pride as 
would be good for 'em, not they ! If a body wants to borrow 
an article over at the Nest, and that's seven miles off, the whull 
way in the woods, just name it to Poll, and she'd jump on an 
ox, if there warn't a boss, and away she'd go a'ter it, with no 
more bit of a saddle, and may be nothin' but a halter, like a 
deer ! Give me Poll, afore all the gals I know, for ar'nds !" 

By this time, disrelish for vulgarity was getting the better of 
curiosity ; and my dinner of fried pork being done, I was will- 
ing to drop the discourse. I had learned enough of Andries 
and his party to satisfy my curiosity, and Jaap was patiently 
waiting to succeed me at table. Throwing down the amount 
of the bill, I took a fowling-piece with which we always 
travelled in those days, bade Mrs. Tinkum good-day, ordered 
the black and the wagoner to follow with the team as soon as 
ready, and went on toward my own property on foot. 

In a very few minutes I was quite beyond the Tinkum bet- 
terments, and fairly in the forest again. It happened that the 
title to a large tract of land adjoining Ravensnest was in dis- 
pute, and no attempt at a serious settlement had ever been 
made on it. Some one had " squatted" at this spot, to enjoy 
the advantage of selling rum to those who went and came be- 
tween my own people and the inner country ; and the place 
had changed hands half a dozen times, by fraudulent, or at 
least, by worthless sales, from one squatter to another. Around 
the house, by this time a decaying pile of logs, time had done 



110 THE CIIAINBEARER. 

a part of the work of tlie settler, and aided by that powerful 
servant but fearful master, fire, had given to the small clearing 
somewhat of the air of civilized cultivation. The moment 
these narrow limits were passed, however, the traveller entered 
the virgin forest, with no other sign of man around him than 
what was offered in the little worked and little travelled road. 
Tlie highway was not much indebted to the labors of man for 
any facilities it afforded the traveller. The. trees had been cut 
out of it, it is true, but their roots had not been extracted, and 
time had done more toward destroying them than the axe or 
pick. Time had done a good deal, however, and the ine- 
qualities were getting to be smooth under the hoof and wheel. 
A tolerably good bridle-path had long been made, and I found 
no difficulty in walking in it, since that answered equally well for 
man and beast. 

The virgin forest of America is usually no place for the ordi- 
nary sportsman. The birds that are called game are but rarely 
found in it, one or two excepted ; and it is a well-known fact 
that while the frontier-man is certain death with a rifle-bullet, 
knocking the head off a squirrel or a wild turkey at his sixty 
or eighty yards, it is necessary to go into the older parts of the 
country, and principally among 'sportsmen of the better classes, 
in order to find those who knock over the woodcock, snipe, 
quail, grouse and plover, on the wing. I was thought a good 
shot on the " plains," and over the heaths or commons of 
the island of Manhattan, and among the necks of Westchester ; 
but I saw nothing to do up there, where I then was, surrounded 
by trees that had stood their centuries. It would certainly 
have been easy enough for me to kill a blue jay now and then, 
or a crow, or even a raven, or perhaps an eagle, had I the proper 
shot ; but as for any thing that is ordinarily thought to adorn 
a game-bag, not a feather could I see. For the want of some- 
thing better to do, then, if a young man of three or four and 
twenty ought thus to express himself, I began to ruminate on 
the charms of Pris. Bayard, and on the singularities of Dus 
Malbone. In this mood I proceeded, getting over the grounds 







THE CHAIN BEARER. Ill 

at a rapid rate, leaving Miss Tinkum, the clearing with its bet- 
terments, and the wagon, far behind me. 

I had walked an hour alone, when the silence of the woods 
was suddenly interrupted by the words of a song that came 
not from any of the feathered race, though the nightingale 
itself could hardly have equalled the sweetness of the notes, 
which were those of a female voice. The low notes struck me 
as the fullest, richest, and most plaintive I had ever heard; 
and I fancied they could not be equalled, until the strain carried 
the singer's voice into a higher key, where it seemed equally 
at home. I thought I knew the air, but the words were gut- 
tural, and in an unknown tongue. French and Dutch were 
the only two foreign languages in which one usually heard any 
music in our part of the woods at that day ; and even the first 
was by no means common. But with both these languages I 
had a little acquaintance, and I was soon satisfied that the 
words I heard belonged to neither. At length it flashed on 
my mind that the song was Indian; not the music, but the 
words. The music was certainly Scotch, or that altered Italian 
that time has attributed to the Scotch ; and there was a mo- 
ment when I fancied some Highland girl was singing near me 
one of the Celtic songs of the country of her childhood. But 
closer attention satisfied me that the words were really Indian ; 
probably belonging to the Mohawk, or some other language 
that I had often heard spoken. 

The reader may be curious to know whence these sounds 
proceeded, and why I did not see the being who gave birth to 
such delicious harmony. It was owing to the fact that the song 
came from out of a thicket of young pines, that grew on an 
ancient opening at a little distance from the road, and which I 
supposed contained a hut of some sort or other. These pines, 
however, completely concealed all within them. So long as 
the song lasted, no tree of the forest was more stationary than 
myself; but when it ended, I was about to advance toward the 
thicket, in order to pry into its mysteries, when I heard a laugh 
that had scarcely less of melody in it than the strains of the 



112 THE CHAINBEARER. 

music itself. It was not a vulgar, clamorous burst of girlish 
impulses, nor was it even loud ; but it was light-hearted, mirth- 
ful, indicating humor, if a mere laugh can do so much ; and in 
a sense it was contagious. It arrested my movement, in order 
to listen; and before any new impulse led me forward, the 
branches of the pines opened, and a man passed out of the 
thicket into the road. A single glance sufficed to let me know 
that the stranger was an Indian. 

Notwithstanding I was apprised of the near vicinity of others, 
I was a little startled with this sudden apparition. Not so with 
him who was approaching; he could not have known of my 
being anywhere near him ; yet he manifested no emotion as 
his cold, undisturbed glance fell on my form. Steadily advanc- 
ing, he came to the centre of the road ; and, as I had turned 
involuntarily to pursue my own way, not sure it was prudent to 
remain in that neighborhood alone, the red man fell in, with 
his moccasined foot, at my elbow, and I found that we were 
thus strangely pursuing our journey, in the same direction, side 
by side. 

The Indian and myself walked in this manner, within a yard 
of each other, in the midst of that forest, for two or three 
minutes without speaking. I forbore to say any thing, because 
I had heard that an Indian respected those most who knew best 
how to repress their curiosity ; which habit, most probably, 
had its effect on my companion. At length, the red man ut- 
tered, in the deep, guttural manner of his people, the common 
conventional salutation of the frontier — 

"Sa-a-go?" 

This word, which has belonged to some Indian language 
once, passes everywhere for Indian with the white man ; and, 
quite likely for English, with the Indian. A set of such terms 
has grown up between the two races, including such words as 
''moccasin," "pappoose," "tomahawk," "squaw," and many 
others. " Sa-a-go," means "how d'ye do?" 

"Sa-a-go?" — I answered to my neighbor's civil salutation. 

After this we walked along for a few minutes more, neither 



THE CIIAINBEARER. 113 

party speaking. I took tliis opportunity to examine my red 
brother, an employment that was all the easier from the circum- 
stance that he did not once look at me ; the single glance suffi- 
cing to tell him all he wanted to know. In the first place, I 
was soon satisfied that my companion did not drink, a rare 
merit in a red man who lived near the whites. This was evi- 
dent from his countenance, gait, and general bearing, as I 
thought, in addition to the fact that he possessed no bottle, or 
any thing else that would hold liquor. What I liked the least 
was the circumstance of his being completely armed ; carrying 
knife, tomahawk and rifle, and each seemingly excellent of its 
kind. He was not painted, however, and he wore an ordinary 
calico shirt, as was then the usual garb of his people in the 
warm season. The countenance had the stern severity that is 
so common to a red warrior ; and, as this man was turned of 
fifty, his features began to show the usual signs of exposure 
and service. Still, he was a vigorous, respectable-looking red 
man, and one who was evidently accustomed to live much among 
civilized men. I had no serious uneasiness, of course, at meet- 
ing such a person, although we were so completely buried in 
the forest; but, as a soldier, I could not help reflecting how 
inferior my fowling-piece would necessarily prove to be to his 
rifle should he see fit to turn aside, and pull upon me from be- 
hind a tree, for the sake of plunder. Tradition said such things 
had happened ; though, on the whole, the red man of America 
has perhaps proved to be the most honest of the two, as com- 
pared with those who have supplanted him. 

" How ole chief?" the Indian suddenly asked, without even 
raising his eyes from the road. 

"Old chief! Do you mean Washington, my friend ?" 
**Notso — mean ole chief, out here, at Nest. Mean fader.'' 
" My father ! Do you know General Littlepage ?" 
"Be sure, know him. Your fader — see" — holding up his 
two fore-fingers — "just like — dat him; dis you." 

" This is singular enough ! And were you told that I was 
coming to this place ?" 



lU 



THE CIIAINBEARER. 



"Hear dat, too. Always talk about chief." 

"Is it long since you saw my father ?" 

" See him in war-time — nebber hear of ole Sureflint?" 

I had heard the officers of our regiment speak of such an 
Indian, who had served a good deal with the coi-ps, and been 
exceedingly useful, in the two great northern campaigns espe- 
cially. He never happened to be with the regiment after I 
joined it, though his name and services were a good deal mixed 
up with the adventures of 111 Q and 1777. 

"Certainly," I answered, shaking the red man cordially by 
the hand. *' Certainly, have I heard of you, and something 
that is connected with times before the war. Did you never 
meet my father before the war ?" 

" Sartain ; meet in ole war. Gin'ral young man, den — ^just 
like son." 

*' By what name were you then known, Oneida ?" 

"No Oneida — Onondago — sober tribe. Hab plenty name. 
Sometime one, sometime anoder. Paleface say * Trackless,' 
cause he can't find his trail — warrior call him * Susquesus.' " 







THE CHAINBEARER. lib 



CHAPTER Vlir. 

*• With what free growth the elm and piano 
Fling their huge arms across my way ; 
Gray, old, and cumber'd with a train 
Of vines, as huge, and old, and gray! 
Free stray the lucid streams, and find 

No taint in these fresh lawns and shades ; 
Free spring the flowers that scent the wind, 
Where never scythe has swept the glades." 

Brtakt. 

I HAD heard enough of my father's early adventures to know 
that the man mentioned in the last chapter had been a conspic- 
uous actor in them, and remembered that the latter enjoyed the 
fullest confidence of the former. It was news to me, however, 
that Sureflint and the Trackless were the same person ; though, 
when I came to reflect on the past, I had some faint recollection 
of having once before heard something of the sort. At any 
rate, I was now with a friend, and no longer thought it neces- 
sary to be on my guard. This was a great relief, in every point 
of view, as one does not like to travel at the side of a stranger, 
with an impression, however faint, that the latter may blow his 
brains out, the first time he ventures to turn his own head 
aside. 

Susquesus was drawing near to the decline of life. Had he 
been a white man, I might have said he was in a ** green old 
age;" but the term of *' red old age" would suit him much bet- 
ter. His features were still singularly fine ; while the cheeks, 
without being very full, had that indurated, solid look, that 
flesh and muscles get from use and exposure. His form was as 
erect as in his best days, a red man's frame rarely yielding in 
this way to any pressure but that of exceeding old age, and 



116 TUE CII AINBE ARE K. 

that of rum. Susqucsus never admitted tlie enemy into his 
mouth, and consequently the citadel of his physical man was 
secure against every invader but time. In-toed and yielding in 
his gait, the old warrior and runner still passed over the ground 
with an easy movement ; and when I had occasion to see him 
increase his speed, as soon after occurred, I did not fail to per- 
ceive that his sinews seemed strung to their utmost force, and 
that every movement was free. 

For a time, the Indian and I talked of the late war, and of 
the scenes in which each of us had been an actor. If my own 
modesty was as obvious as that of Sureflint, I had no reason to 
be dissatisfied with myself; for the manner in which he alluded 
to events in which I knew he had been somewhat prominent, 
was simple and entirely free from that boasting in which the 
red man is prone to indulge ; more especially when he wishes 
to provoke his enemies. At length I changed the current of 
the discourse, by saying abruptly — 

*' You were not alone in that pine thicket, Susqucsus ; that 
from which you came when you joined me ?" 

*' No — sartain; wasn't alone. Plenty people dere." 

'* Is there an encampment of your tribe among those 
bushes?" 

A shade passed over the dark countenance of my companion, 
and I saw a question had been asked that gave him pain. He 
paused some little time before he answered ; and when he did, 
it was in a way that seemed sad. 

*' Susqucsus got tribe no longer. Quit Onondagos t'irty 
summer, now ; don't like Mohawk." 

*' I remember to have heard something of this from my 
father, who told me at the same time, that the reason why 
you left your people was to your credit. But, you had musio 
in the thicket ?" 

" Yes ; gal sing — gal love sing ; warrior like to listen." 

''And the song? — In what language were the words?" 

"Onondago" — answered the Indian, in alow tone. 

" I had no idea the music of the red people was so sweet. 



THE CHAINBEARER. 



117 



It is many a day since I liave heard a song that went so near to 
my heart, though I could not understand what was said." 

" Bird, pretty bird — sing like wren." 

"And is there much of this music in your family, Susquesus? 
If so, I shall come often to listen." 

" Why not come ? Path got no briar; short path, too. Gal 
sing, when you want." 

"Then I shall certainly be your guest, some day, soon. 
Where do you live, now ? Are you Sureflint, or Trackless, to- 
day ? I see you are armed, but not painted." 

" Hatchet buried, berry deep, dis time. No dig him up, in 
great many year. Mohawk make peace ; Oneida make peace ; 
Onondago make peace — all bury 'e hatchet." 

" Well, so much the better for us landholders. I have come 
to sell and lease my lands ; perhaps you can tell me if many 
young men are out hunting for farms this summer?" 

" Wood full. Plenty as pigeons. How you sell land ?" 

" That will depend on where it is, and how good it is. Do 
you wish to buy. Trackless?" 

" Injin own all land, for what he want now. I make wigwam 
where I want; make him, too, when I want." 

" I know very well that you Indians do claim such a right; 
and, so long as the country remains in its present wild state, no 
one will be apt to refuse it to you. But you cannot plant and 
gather, as most of your people do in their own country." 

" Got no squaw— got no pappoose — little corn do for Susque- 
sus. No tribe — no squaw — no pappoose !" 

This was said in a low, deliberate voice, and with a species 
of manly melancholy that I found very touching. Complaining 
men create very little sympathy, and those who whine are apt 
to lose our respect ; but I know no spectacle more imposing 
than that of one of stern nature smothering his sorrows be- 
neath the mantle of manliness and self-command. 

"You have friends, Susquesus," I answered, "if you have 
no wife nor children." 

"Fader, good friend; hope son friend, too. Grandfader 



118 THE CHAINBEARER. 

great friend, once ; but lie gone far away, and nebber come 
back. Know moder, know fader — all good." 

** Take wliat land you want. Trackless — till it, sell it — do 
what you wish with it." 

The Indian eyed me keenly, and I detected a slight smile of 
pleasure stealing over his weather-worn face. It was not easy 
to throw him off his habitual guard over his emotions, how- 
ever ; and the gleam of illumination passed away, like a ray of 
sunshine in mid-winter. The sternest white man might have 
grasped my hand, and something like a sign of gratitude would 
probably have escaped him ; but, the little trace of emotion I 
have mentioned having disappeared, nothing remained on the 
dark visage of my companion that in the least resembled an 
evidence of yielding to any of the gentler feelings. Neverthe- 
less, he was too courteous, and had too much of the innate sen- 
timent of a gentleman, not to make some return for an offer 
that had so evidently and spontaneously come from the heart. 

*' Good" — he said, after a long pause. " Berry good, dat ; 
good, to come from young warrior to ole warrior. T'ankee — 
— bird plenty ; fish plenty ; message plenty, now ; and don't 
want land. Time come, maybe — s'pose he must come — come 
to all old red men, hereabout; so s'pose must come." 

" What time do you mean. Trackless ? Let it come when it 
may, you have a friend in me. What time do you mean, my 
brave old Sureflint?" 

The Trackless stopped, dropped the breech of his rifle on the 
ground, and stood meditating a minute, motionless, and as 
grand as some fine statue. 

"Yes; time come, <?o s'pose," he continued. "One time, 
ole warrior live in wigwam, and tell young warrior of scalp, 
and council-fire, and hunt, and war-path ; now, make broom and 
basket y 

It was not easy to mistake this ; and I do not remember ever 
to have felt so lively an interest, on so short an acquaintance, 
as I began to feel in this Onondago. Priscilla Bayard her- 
self, however lovely, graceful, winning, and feminine, had not 



THE CHAIN BEARER. lli^ 

created a feeling so strong and animated, as that wliicli was 
awakened within me in behalf of old Sureflint. But I fully 
understood that this was to be shown in acts, and not in 
words. Contenting myself for the present, after the fashion of 
the pale-faces, by grasping and squeezing the sinewy hand of 
the warrior, we walked on together, making no farther allusion 
to a subject that I can truly say was as painful to me as it was 
to my companion. 

" I have heard your name mentioned as one of those who 
were at the Nest with my father when he was a young man, 
Susquesus," I resumed, " and when the Canada Indians at- 
tempted to burn the house." 

*'Good — Susquesus dere — young Dutch chief kill dat 
time." 

" Very true — his name was Guert Ten Eyck ; and my father 
and mother, and your old friend Colonel FoUock, who was after- 
ward major of our regiment, you will remember, they love his 
memory to this day, as that of a very dear friend." 

"Dat all, love memory now 2" asked the Indian, throwing 
one of his keenest glances at me. • 

I understood the allusion, which was to aunt Mary, whom I 
had heard spoken of as the betrothed, or at least as the beloved 
of the young Albanian. 

" Not all ; for there is a lady who still mourns his loss, as if 
she had been his widow." 

" Good — do' squaw don't mourn fery long time. Sometime 
not always." 

** Pray, Trueflint, do you happen to know any thing of a man 
called the Chainbearer ? He was in the regiment, too, and you 
must have seen him in the war." 

"Sartain — know Chainbearer — know him on war-path — 
know him when hatchet buried. Knew Chainbearer afore ole 
French war. Live in wood wid him — one of us. Chainbearer 
my friend." 

"I rejoice to hear this, for he is also mine; and I shall be 
glad to come into the compact, as a friend of both." 



120 THE C II A I N E E A R E R . 

*' Good — Susqucsus and young landlord friend of Cliainbearer 
— good." 

** It is good, and a league that shall not be forgotten easily 
by me. The Chainbearer is as honest as light, and as certain 
as his own compass, Trueflint — true, as yourself." 

'' 'Fraid he make broom 'fore great while, too," said the In- 
dian, expressing the regret I have no doubt he felt, very obvi- 
ously in his countenance. 

Poor old Andries ! But for the warm and true friends he 
had in my father. Colonel Dirck and myself, there was some 
danger this might be the case, indeed. The fact that he had 
served his country in a revolution would prove of little avail, 
that country being too poor to provide for its old servants, and 
possibly indisposed, had she the means.* I say this without 
intending to reflect on either the people or the government ; 
for it is not easy to make the men of the present day under- 
stand the deep depression, in a pecuniary sense, that rested on 
the land for a year or two after peace was made. It recovered, 
as the child recovers from indisposition, by the vigor of its 
constitution and tha power of its vitality; and one of* the 
means by which it recovered, was by turning to the soil, and 
wielding the sickle instead of the sword. To continue the dis- 
course. 

" The Chainbearer is an honest man, and, like too many of 
his class, poor," I answered ; " but he has friends ; and neither 
he nor you, Sureflint, shall be reduced to that Avoman's work 

* This must pass for one of the hits the republic is exposed to, partly because it 
deserves them, and partly because it is a republic. One hears a great d^al of this 
ingratitude of republics, but few take the trouble of examining into the truth of the 
charge, or its reason, if true. I suppose the charge to be true in part, and for the 
obvious reason that a government founded on the popular will, is necessarily impul- 
Bive in such matters, and feels no necessity to be just, in order to be secure. Then, a 
democracy is always subject to the Influence of the cant of economy, which is nest 
thing to the evil of being exposed to the waste and cupidity of those who take be- 
cause they have the power. As respects the soldiers of the revolution, however, 
America, under the impulsive feeling, rather than in obedience to a calm, deliberate 
desire to be just, has, since the time of Mr. Mordaunt Littlepage, made such a liberal 
provision for pensioning them, as to include a good many of her cncmieB, as well fti 
all her friends. — Editor. 



THE CIIAINBEARER. 121 

without your own consent, so long as I liave an unoccupied 
house, or a farm, at Ravensnest." 

Again the Indian manifested his sense of my friendship for 
him by that passing gleam on his dark face ; and again all signs 
of emotion passed slowly away. 

"How long since see him?" he asked me suddenly. 

" See him — the Chainbearer, do you mean ? I have not seen 
him, now, for more than a twelvemonth ; not since we parted 
when the regiment was disbanded*'* 

" Don't mean Chainbearer — mean /tt?«," pointing ahead — 
"house, tree, farm, land. Nest." 

** Oh ! How long is it since I saw the patent. I never saw 
it, Sureflint; — this is my first visit." 

"Dat queer ! How you own land, when nebber see him?" 

"Among the pale-faces we have such laws, that property 
passes from parent to child ; and I inherit mine in this neigh- 
borhood, from my grandfather, Herman Mordaunt." 

" What dat mean, 'herit ? How man haf land, when he 
don't keep him ?" 

"We do keep it, if not by actually remaining on the spot, 
by means of our laws and our titles. The pale-faces regulate 
all these things on paper, Sureflint." 

" T'ink dat good ? Why no let man take land where he 
want him, lohen he want him ? Plenty land. Got more land 
dan got people. 'Nough for ebbery body." 

"That fact makes our laws just; if there were not land 
enough for every body, these restrictions and divisions might 
seem to be, and in fact be, unjust. Now, any man can have a 
farm, who will pay a very moderate price for it. The state sells, 
and landlords sell ; and those who don't choose to buy of one, 
can buy of the other. 

"Dat true 'nough ; but don't see need of dat paper. When 
he want to stay on land, let him stay ; when he want to go 
somewhere, let 'noder man come. What good pay for better 
ment ?" 

"So as to have betterments. These arc what we call the 
6 



122 THE CIIAINBEARER. 

rights of property, witliout whicli no man would aim at being 
any thing more than clad and fed. Who would hunt, if any- 
body that came along had a right to pick up and skin his 
game 2" 

*' See dat well 'nough — nebber do ; no, nebber. Don't see 
why land go like skin, when skin go wid warrior and hunter, 
and land stay where he be." 

*'That is because the riches of you red men are confined to 
movable property, and to your wigwams, so long as you choose 
to live in them. Thus far, you respect the rights of propeity 
as well as the pale-faces ; but you must see a great difference 
between your people and mine ! — between the red man and the 
white man ?" 

"Be sure, differ; one strong, t'oder weak — one rich, t'oder 
poor — one great, t'oder little — one drive 'way, t'oder haf to go 
— one get all, t'oder keep nuttin' — one march large army, t'oder 
go Indian file, fifty warrior, p'raps — dat reason t'ing so." 

" And why can the pale-faces march in large armies, with 
cannon, and horses, and bayonets, and the red man not do the 
same ?" 

" Cause he no got 'em — no got wan-ior — no got gun — no got 
baggonet — no got nuttin'." 

** You have given the effect for the cause, Sureflint, or the 
consequences of the reason for the reason itself. I hope I 
make you understand me. Listen, and I will explain. You 
have lived much with the white men, Susquesus, and can be- 
lieve what I say. There are good, and there are bad, among 
all people. Color makes no difference in this respect. Still, 
all people are not alike. The white man is stronger than the 
red man, and has taken away his country, because he knows 
most." 

'* He most, too. Count army, den count war- trail ; you see." 

" It is true the pale-faces are the most numerous, now ; but 
once they were not. Do not your traditions tell you how few 
the Yengeese were, when they first came across the salt lake ?'* 

** Come in big canoe — two, t'ree full — no more.^ 



?) 



THE CHAINBEARER. 123 

" Why then did two or three shipfuls of white men be- 
come so strong as to drive back from the sea all the red warri- 
ors, and become masters of the land ? Can you give a reason 
for that?" 

" 'Cause he bring fire-water wid him, and red man big fool 
to drink." 

" Even that fire-water, which doubtless has proved a cruel 
gift to the Indians, is one of the fruits of the white man's 
knowledge. No, Susquesus ; the red-skin is as brave as the 
pale-face ; as willing to defend his rights, and as able-bodied ; 
but he does not know as much. He had no gunpowder until 
the white man gave it to him — no rifle — no hoe, no knife, no 
tomahawk, but such as he made himself from stones. Now, all 
the knowledge, and all the arts of life that the white man enjoys 
and turns to his profit, come from the rights of property. No 
man would build a wigwam to make rifles in, if he thought 
he could not keep it as long as he wished, sell it when he 
pleased, and leave it to his son when he went to the land of 
spirits. It is by encouraging man's love of himself, in this 
manner, that he is got to do so much. Thus it is, too, that the 
father gives to the son what he has learned, as well as what he 
has built or bought ; and so, in time, nations get to be power- 
ful, as they get to be what we called civilized. Without these 
rights of property, no people could be civilized ; for no people 
would do their utmost, unless each man were permitted to be 
master of what he can acquire, subject to the great and com- 
mon laws that are necessary to regulate such matters. I hope 
you understand my meaning. Trackless." 

"Sartain — no like Trackless' moccasin — ^my young friend's 
tongue leave trail. But you t'ink Great Spirit say who shall 
haf land ; who no haf him ?" 

" The Great Spirit has created man as he is, and the earth as 
it is ; and he has left the one to be master of the other. If it 
were not his pleasure that man should not do as he has done, 
it would not be done. Diflcrent laws and difi'erent feelings 
would then bring about different ends. When the law places 



124 THE CHAINBEARER. 

all men on a level, as to rights, it does as much as can be ex- 
pected of it. Now, this level does not consist in pulling every 
thing to pieces periodically, but in respecting certain great 
principles that are just in themselves ; but which, once started, 
must be left to follow their own course. When the rights of 
property are first established, they must be established fairly, on 
some admitted rule ; after which they are to remain inviolable — 
that is to say, sacred." 

"Understand — no live in clearin' for nuttin'. Mean, haf no 
head widout haf farm.*' 

" That is the meaning, substantially, Sureflint ; though I 
might have explained it a little differently. I wish to say pale- 
faces would be like the red man without civilization ; and with- 
out civilization if they had no rights in their land. No one 
will work for another as he will work for himself. We see that 
every day, in the simplest manner, when we see that the desire 
to got good wages will not make the common laborer do as 
much by the day as he will do by the job." 

" Dat true," answered the Indian, smiling ; for he seldom 
laughed ; and repeating a common saying of the country — 
"By — de — day — by— de — day — By de job, job, job! Dat 
pale-face religion, young chief." 

*' I don't know that our religion has much to do with it ; 
but I will own it is our practice. I fancy it is the same with 
all races and colors. A man must work for himself to do his 
most ; and he cannot work for himself unless he enjoy the fruits 
of his labor. Thus it is, that he must have a right of property in 
land, either bought or hired, in order to make him cause that 
land to produce all that nature intended it should produce. 
On this necessity is founded the rights of property ; the gain 
being civilization ; the loss ignorance, and poverty, and weak- 
ness. It is for this reason, then, that we buy and sell land, as 
well as clothes and arms, and beads." 

"T'ink, understand. Great Spirit, den, say must have 
farm?" 

" The Great Spirit has said we must have wants and wishes, 



THE CHAINBEARER. 125 

that can be met, or gratified only by having farms. To have 
farms we must have owners ; and owners cannot exist unless 
their rights in their lands are protected. As soon as these are 
gone, the whole building would tumble down about our cars, 
Susquesus." 

"Well, s'pose him so. We see, some time. Young chief 
know where he is ?" 

** Not exactly; but I suppose we are drawing near to the 
lands of Ravensnest." 

" Well, queer 'nough, too ! Own land, but don't know him. 
See — marked tree — dat sign your land begin." 

" Thank you, Sureflint — a parent would not know his own 
child, when he saw him for the first time. If I am owner here, 
you will remember that this is my first visit to the spot." 

While conversing, the Trackless had led me from the high- 
way into a foot path, which, as I afterward discovered, made a 
short cut across some hills, and saved us near two miles in the 
distance. In consequence of this change in oijr course, Jaap 
could not have overtaken me, had he moved faster than he did ; 
but, owing to the badness of the road, our gait on foot was 
somewhat faster than that of the jaded beasts who dragged the 
wagon. My guide knew the way perfectly ; and, as we ascend- 
ed a hill, he pointed out the remains of an old fire, near a spring, 
as a spot where he was accustomed to "camp," when he wished 
to remain near, but not in the 'Nest. 

" Too much rum in tavern" — he said. " No good stay near 
rum." 

This was extraordinary forbearance for an Indian ; but Sus- 
quesus, I had ever understood, was an extraordinary Indian. 
Even for an Onondago, he was temperate and self-denying. 
The reason why he lived away from his tribe was a secret from 
most persons ; though I subsequently ascertained it was known 
to the Chainbearer, as well as my father. Old Andries always 
flflSrmed it was creditable to his friend; but he would never 
betray the secret. Indeed, I found that the sympathy which 
existed between these two men, each of Avhom was so singular 



120 THE CHAINBEARER. 

in his way, was cemented by some occurrences of their early 
lives, to which occasional, but vague allusions were made, bu/ 
which neither ever revealed to me, or to any other person, so far 
as I could ascertain. 

Soon after passing the spring, Sureflint led me out to a 
cleared spot on the eminence, which commanded an extensive 
view of most of that part of my possessions which was under 
lease and occupied. Here we halted, seating ourselves on a 
fallen tree, for which one could never go amiss in that region, 
and at that day ; and I examined the view with the interest 
which ownership is apt to create in us all. The earth is very 
beautiful in itself; but it is most beautiful in the eye of those 
who have the largest stake in it, I fear. 

Although the property of Ravensnest had been settled fully 
thirty years when I first saw it, none of those signs of rapid 
and energetic improvement were visible that we have witnessed 
in the efforts of similar undertakings since the revolution. 
Previously to that great event, the country filled up very slowly, 
and each colony seemed to regard itself, in some measure, as a 
distinct country. Thus it was that we in New York obtained 
very few immigrants from New England, that great hive which 
has so often swarmed since, and the bees of which have carried 
their industry and ingenuity over so much of the republic in 
our own time. We of New York have our prejudices against 
the Yankees, and have long looked upon them with eyes of dis- 
trust and disfavor. They have repaid us in kind, perhaps; but 
their dislikes have not been strong enough to prevent them from 
coming to take possession of our lands. For my own part, 
while I certainly see much in the New England character that I 
do not like (more in their manners and minor ways, perhaps, 
than in essentials), I as certainly see a great deal to command 
my respect. If the civilization that they carry with them is 
not of a very high order, as is connected with the tastes, senti- 
ments, and nicer feelings, it is superior to that of any other 
country I have visited, in its common-sense provisions, and in 
its care over the intellectual being, considered in reference to 



THE CHAIN BEARER. 127 

tlic foundations of learning. More persons are dragged from 
out the mire of profound ignorance under their system, than 
under that of any other people ; and a greater number of can- 
didates are brought forward for intellectual advancements. 
That so few of these candidates rise very high on the scale of 
knowledge, is in part owing to the circumstance that their lives 
are so purely practical ; and, possibly, in part to the fact that 
while so much attention has been paid to the foundations of the 
social edifice, that little art or care has as yet been expended on 
the superstructure. Nevertheless, the millions of Yankees that 
are spreading themselves over the land, are producing, and have 
already produced, a most salutary influence on its practical 
knowledge, on its enterprise, on its improvements, and conse- 
quently on its happiness. If they hare not done much for its 
tastes, its manners, and its higher principles, it is because no 
sportion of the earth is perfect. I am fully aware that this is 
conceding more than my own father would have conceded in 
their favor, and twice as much as could have been extracted 
from either of my grandfathers. But, prejudice is wearing 
away, and the Dutchman and the Yankee, in particular, find it 
possible to live in proximity and charit}^ It is possible that 
my son may be willing to concede even more. Our immigrant 
friends should remember one thing, however, and it would ren- 
der them much more agreeable as companions and neighbors, 
which is this : — he who migrates is bound to respect the 
habits and opinions of those whom he joins ; it not being suffi- 
cient for the perfection of every thing under the canopy of 
heaven, that it should come from our own little corner of the 
earth. Even the pumpkin-pies of the Middle States are vastly 
better than those usually found in New England. To return to 
Ravensnest. 

The thirty years of the settlement of my patent, then, had 
not done much for it, in the way of works of art. Time, it is 
true, had effected something, and it was something in a man- 
ner that was a little peculiar, and which might be oftener dis- 
covered in the country at the time of which I am writing, than 



128 THE CIIAINBEARER. 

at tlie present dt\y. The timber of the 'Nest, with the excep- 
tion of some mountain-land, Avas principally Avhat, in Ameri(;an 
parlance, is termed "hardwood." In other words, the trees 
were not perennial, but deciduous ; and the merest tyro in the 
woods knows that the roots of the last decay in a fourth of the 
time that the roots of the first endure, after the trunk is 
severed. As a consequence, the stumps had nearly all disap- 
peared from the fields ; a fact that, of itself, gave to the place 
the appearance of an old country, according to our American 
notions. It is true, the virgin forest still flourished in imme- 
diate contact with those fields, shorn, tilled and smoothed as 
they were, giving a Avild and solemn setting to the rural picture 
the latter presented. The contrast was sufficiently bold and 
striking, but it was not without its soft and pleasant points. 
From the height whither the Indian had led me, I had a fore- 
ground of open land, dotted with cottages and barns, mostly 
of logs, beautified by flourishing orchards, and garnished with 
broad meadows, or enriched by fields, in which the corn was 
waving under the currents of a light summer air. Two or 
three roads wound along the settlement, turning aside with 
friendly interest, to visit every door; and at the southern 
termination of the open country, there was a hamlet, built of 
wood framed, which contained one house that had little taste, 
but a good deal more of pretension than any of its neighbors ; 
another, that was an inn ; a store, a blacksmith' s-shop, a 
school-house, and three or four other buildings, besides barns, 
sheds and hog-pens. Near the hamlet, or the "Nest Village," 
as the place was called, were the mills of the region. These 
were a grist-mill, a saw-mill, a fulling-mill, and an oil-mill. All 
were of moderate dimensions, and, most probably, of moderate 
receipts. Even the best house was not painted, though it had 
some very ambitious attempts at architecture, and enjoyed the 
benefits of no less than four exterior doors, the uses of one of 
which, as it opened into the air from the second story, it was 
not very easy to imagine. Doubtless some great but unfinished 
project of the owner lay at the root of this invention. But 



THE CHAINBEARER. 129 

living out of doors, as it were, is rather a characteristic of a 
portion of our people. 

The background of this picture, to which a certain degi'ee 
of rural beauty was not wanting, was the "boundless woods,'* 
Woods stretched away, north, and south, and east, far as eye 
could reach ; woods crowned the sides and summits of all the 
mountains in view ; and v/oods rose up, with their leafy car- 
peting, from out the ravines and dells. The war had prevented 
any very recent attempts at clearing, and all the open ground 
wore the same aspect of homely cultivation, while the dark 
shades of an interminable forest were spread around, forming a 
sort of mysterious void, that lay between this obscure and re- 
mote people, and the rest of their kind. That forest, however, 
was not entirely savage. There were other settlements spring- 
ing up in its bosom ; a few roads wound their way through its 
depths ; and, here and there, the hunter, the squatter, or the 
red man, had raised his cabin, and dwelt amid the sullen 
but not unpleasant abundance and magnificence of the wilder- 
ness. 



130 THE CHAINBEARER. 



CHAPTER IX. 

" masters I if I were disposed to stir 
Your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage, 
I should do Brutus wrong, and Cassius wrong, 
Who, you all know, are honorable men ; 
I will not do them wrong ; I rather choose 
To wrong the dead, to wrong myself and you, 
Than I will wrong such honorable men." 

SnAKSPEARE, 

"This, tlien, is Ravensnest!" I exclaimed, after gazing on 
the scene for several minutes in silence ; the estate left me 
by my grandfather, and where events once occurred that are 
still spoken of in my family as some of the most momentous 
in its history ; events, Susquesus, in which you were an actor." 

The Indian made a low interjection, but it is not probable 
he fully understood me. What was there so remarkable in 
a savage inroad, a house besieged, men slain and scalps taken, 
that he should remember such things for a quarter of a cen- 
tury ! 

"I do not see the Nest itself, Trueflint," I added; *'the 
house in which my grandfather once lived." 

The Onondago did not speak, but he pointed with a finger in 
a north-easterly direction, making the action distinct and im- 
pressive, as is usual with his people. I knew the place by the 
descriptions I had heard, though it was now mouldering, and 
had gone far into decay. Logs piled up green, and confined in 
such a structure, will last some thirty or forty years, according 
to the nature of the trees from which they come, and the 
manner in which they have been covered. At that distance I 
could not well distinguish how far, or how much, time had 
done its work ; but I fancied I knew enough of such matters 
to understand I was not to expect in the Nest a very comfort- 



THE CHAINBE ARE p.. 



131 



able home. A family dwelt in the old place, and I had seen 
some cheeses that had been made on the very fine farm that was 
attached to it. There was a large and seemingly a flourishing 
orchard, and the fields looked well ; but as for the house, at 
that distance it appeared sombre, dark, and was barely to be 
distinguished by its form and chimneys, from any other pile of 
logs. 

I was struck with the silent, dreamy, sabbath-like air of the 
fields, far and near. With the exception of a few half-naked 
children who were visible around the dwellings to which we 
were the closest, not a human being could I discover. The 
fields were tenantless, so far as men were concerned, though a 
good many horned cattle were to be seen grazing. 

" My tenants are not without stock, I find, Trueflint," I re- 
marked. ** There are plenty of cattle in the pastures." 

" You see, all young ;" answered the Onondago. ** War 
do dat. Kill ole one for soldier." 

"By the way, as this settlement escaped plunder, 1 should 
think its people may have done something by selling supplies to 
the army. Provisions of ail kinds were very high and scarce, 
I remember, when we met Burgoyne." 

"Sartain. Your people sell both side — good trade, den. 
Feed Yankees — ^feed Yengeese." 

"Well, I make no doubt it was so ; for the husbandman is 
not very apt to hesitate when he can get a good price ; and if he 
were, the conscience of the drover would stand between him 
and treason. But where are all the men of this country ? I do 
not see a single man, far or near," 

'' No see him! — dere," answered the Indian, pointing in the 
direction of the hamlet. ** 'Squire light council-fire to-day, 
s'pose, and make speech." 

"True enough — there they are, gathered about the school- 
house. But whom do you mean by the 'squire, who is so fond 
of making speeches ?" 

" Ole schoolmaster. Come from salt lake — great friend of 
grandfader." 



132 THE CHAIN BEARER. 

*' Oh ! Mr. Newcomc, my agent — true ; I might have known 
that he was king of the settlement. "Well, Trueflint, let us go 
on ; and when we reach the tavern we shall be able to learn 
what the 'great council' is about. Say nothing of my busi- 
ness ; for it will be pleasant to look on a little, before I speak 
myself." 

The Indian arose, and led the way down the height, following 
a foot-path with which he appeared to be familiar. In a few 
minutes we were in a highway, and at no great distance from 
the hamlet. I had laid aside most of the dress that it was the 
fashion of gentlemen to wear in 1784, and put on a hunting- 
shirt and leggings, as more fitting attire for the woods ; conse- 
quently it would not have been easy for one who was not in the 
secret to imagine that he who arrived on foot, in such a garb, 
carrying his fowling-piece, and accompanied by an Indian, was 
the owner of the estate. I had sent no recent notice of my 
intended arrival ; and as we went along, I took a fancy to get a 
faint glimpse of things incognito. In order to do this, it might 
be necessary to say a word more to the Indian. 

'SSusquesus," I added, as we drew near the school-house, 
which stood between us and the tavern, *'I hope you have 
understood me — there is no need of telling any one who I am. 
If asked, you can answer I am your friend. That will be true, 
as you will find as long as you live." 

" Good — young chief got eyes ; want to look wid 'em him- 
self. Good — Susquesus know." 

In another minute we stopped in the crowd, before the door 
of the school-house. The Indian was so well known, and so often 
at the 'Nest, that Ms appearance excited no attention. Some 
important business appeared on the carpet, for there was much 
caucusing, much private conversation, many eager faces, and 
much putting together of heads. While the public mind was 
thus agitated, few were disposed to take any particular notice 
of me, though I had not stood long in the outer edge of the 
crowd, which may have contained sixty or seventy men, besides 
quite as many well-grown lads, before I overheard an interroga- 



THE C II AI NBE ARE R. 133 

tory put, as to wlio I' was, and whether I had " a right to a vote." 
My curiosity was a good deal excited, and I was on the point 
of asking some explanation, when a man appeared in the door 
of the school-house, who laid the whole matter bare, in a speech. 
This person had a shrivelled, care-worn, but keen look, and 
was somewhat better dressed than most around him, though 
not particularly elegant, or even very neat, in his toilette. He 
was gray-headed, of a small, thin figure, and might have been 
drawing hard upon sixty. He spoke in a deliberate, self-pos- 
sessed manner, as if long accustomed to the sort of business in 
which he was engaged, but in a very decided Connecticut 
accent. I say Connecticut, in contradistinction to that of New 
England generally ; for while the eastern states have many com- 
mon peculiarities in this way, a nice and practised ear can tell 
a Rhode-Islander from a Massachusetts man, and a Connecticut 
man from either. As the orator opened his mouth to remove 
a chew of tobacco previously to opening it to speak, a murmur 
near me said — "hist! there's the squire; now we shall get 
suthin.' " This, then, was Mr. Jason Newcome, my agent, and 
the principal resident in the settlement. 

*' Fellow-citizens" — Mr. Newcome commenced — "you are 
assembled this day, on a most important, and I may say, trying 
occasion ; an occasion calculated to exercise all our spirits. Your 
business is to decide on the denomination of the church-build- 
ing, that you are about to erect ; and the futur' welfare of your 
souls may, in one sense, be said to be interested in your decis- 
ion. Your deliberations have already been opened by prayer ; 
and now you are about to come to a final vote. Differences of 
opinion have, and do exist among you'; but differences of opin- 
ion exist everywhere. They belong to liberty, the blessings of 
which are not to be enj'yed without full and free differences of 
opinion. Religious liberty demands differences of opinion, as 
a body might say ; and without them, there would be no relig- 
ious liberty. You all know the weighty reason there is for 
coming to some conclusion speedily. The owner of the sile 
will make his appearance this summer, and his family are all of 



134 THE CHAIN BEARER. 

a desperate tendency toward an idolatrous church, wliich is 
unpleasant to most of you. To prevent any consequences, 
therefore, from his interference, we ought to decide at once, 
and not only have the house raised, but ruffed in afore he arrives. 
Among ourselves, however, we have been somewhat divided, 
and that is a different matter. On the former votes, it has stood 
twenty-six for Congregational to twenty-five Presbytery, four 
teen Methodist, nine Baptist, three Universal, and one Episcopal. 
Now, nothin' is clearer than that the majority ought to rule, 
and that it is the duty of the minority to submit. My first 
decision, as moderator, was that the Congregationals have it by 
a majority of one, but some being dissatisfied with that opinion, 
I have been ready to hear reason, and to take the view that 
twenty-six is not a majority, but a plurality, as it is called. As 
twenty-six, or twenty-five, however, is a majority over nine, and 
over three, and over one, taking their numbers singly or to- 
gether, your committee report that the Baptists, Universals and 
Episcopals ought to be dropped, and that the next vote, now to 
be taken, shall be confined to the three highest numbers ; that 
is to say, to the Congregationals, the Presbyterians and the 
Methodists. Every body has a right to vote for which he 
pleases, provided he vote for one of them three. I suppose I am 
understood, and shall now put the question, unless some gentle- 
man has any remarks to make." 

** Mr. Moderator," cried out a burly, hearty-looking yeoman, 
" is it in order now to speak ?" 

" Quite so, sir — order, gentlemen, order — Major Hosmer is 
up." 

Up we all were, if standing on one's feet be up ; but the 
word was parliamentary, and it appeared to be understood. 

*' Mr. Moderator, I am of the Baptist order, and I do not 
think the decision just ; sin' it compels us Baptists to vote for 
a denomination we don't like, or not to vote at all." 

"But you will allow that the majority ought to rule ?" inter- 
rupted the chair. 

*'Sartain — I agree to that; for that is a part of my religion, 



THE CIIAINBEARER. 1^5 



too," returned the old yeoman heartily, and with an air of per- 
fect good faith-'' the majority ought to rule ; but I do not see 
that a majority is in favor of the Congregational any more than 

it is of the Baptists." 

''We will put it to vote ag'in, major, just for your satistac- 
tion " returned Mr. Newcome, with an air of great candor and 
moderation. " Gentlemen, those of you who are m favor of 
the Baptists not being included in the next vote for denomma- 
tion, wiU please to hold up your hands." 

A.S every man present who was not a Baptist voted "ay, 
there were sixty-nine hands shown. The "no's" were then 
demanded in the same way, and the Baptists got their nme own 
votes, as before. Major Hosmer admitted he was satisfied, 
though he looked as if there might be something wrong m the 
procedure, after all. As the Baptists were the strongest of the 
three excluded sects, the other two made a merit of necessity, 
and said nothing. It was understood they were in a minority ; 
and a minority, as it very often happens in America, has very 

few rights. 

"It now remains, gentlemen," resumed the moderator, who 
was a model of submission to the public voice, "to put the 
vote, as between the Congregationals, the Presbyterians and 
the Methodists. I shall first put the Congregational ists. Those 
who are in favor of that sect, the old ^Connecticut standing 
order, will please to hold up their hands." 

The tone of voice, the coaxing expression of the eye, and the 
words " old Connecticut standing order," let me at once into 
the secret of the moderator's wishes. At first but thirty-four 
hands appeared; but the moderator having counted these, he 
looked round the crowd, until he fairly looked up three more ; 
after which he honestly enough announced the vote to be 
thirty-seven for the Gongregationalists. So eleven of the thir- 
teen of silenced sects, had most probably voted with the moder- 
ator. The Presbyterians came next, and they got their own peo- 
pie, and two of the Baptists, making twenty-seven in all, on a trial 
in their behalf. The Methodists got only their own fourteen. 



136 THE CIIAINBEAREA 

** It evidently appearing, gentlemen," said tlie moderator, 
" that tlie Methodists gain no strength, and being less than half 
the Congregational vote, and much lower than the Presbyterian, 
I put it to their own well-known Christian humility, whether 
they ought not to withdraw ?" 

" Put it openly to vote, as you did ag'in us," came out a 
Baptist. 

" Is that your pleasure, gentlemen ? Seeing that it is, I will 
now try the vote. Those who are in favor of the Methodists 
withdrawing, will hold up their hands." 

Sixty-four hands were raised for, and fourteen against the 
withdrawal. 

'* It is impossible for any religion to flourish ag'in such a 
majority," said the moderator, with great apparent candor; 
*' and though I regret it, for I sincerely wish we were strong 
enough to build meetin' -houses for every denomination in the 
world ; but as we are not, we must take things as they are, and 
so the Methodists must withdraw. Gentlemen, the question is 
now narrowed down to the Congregationals and the Presbyte- 
rians. There is not much difference between them, and it is 
a thousand pities there should be any. Are you ready for the 
question, gentlemen ? No answer being given, I shall put the 
vote." 

And the vote was put, the result being thirty-nine to thirty- • 
nine, or a tie. I could sec that the moderator was disappointed, 
and supposed he would claim a casting vote, in addition to the 
one he had already given ; but I did not know my man. Mr. 
Newcome avoided all appearances of personal authority ; ma- 
jorities were his cardinal rule, and to majorities alone he would 
defer. Whenever he chose to govern, it was by means of ma- 
jorities. The exercise of a power as accidentally bestowed as 
that of presiding officer, might excite heart-burnings and envy; 
but he who went with a majority was certain of having the 
weight of public sympathies on his side. No — no — Mr. Nev/- 
come never had an opinion, as against numbers. 

I am sorry to say that very mistaken notions of the power of 



THE C II A I N B E A 11 E 11 . 137 

majorities are beginning to take root among us. It is common 
to hear it asserted, as a political axiom, that the majority must 
rule ! This axiom may be innocent enough, when its applica- 
tion is properly made, which is simply to say that in the con- 
trol of those interests of which the decision is referred to 
majorities, majorities must rule ; but, God forbid that majori- 
ties should ever rule in all things, in this republic or anywhere 
else ! Such a state of things would soon become intolerable, 
rendering the government that admitted of its existence the 
most odious tyranny that has been known in Christendom in 
modern times. The government of this country is the sway 
of certain great and incontestable principles, that are just in 
themselves, and which are set forth in the several constitutions, 
and under which certain minor questions are periodically refer- 
red to local majorities, as of necessity, out of the frequency of 
which appeals has arisen a mistake that is getting to be dan- 
gerously general. God forbid, I repeat, that a mere personal 
majority should assume the power which alone belongs to 
principles. 

Mr. Newcome avoided a decision, as from the chair; but 
three several times did he take the vote, and each time was 
there a tie. I could now perceive" that he was seriously un- 
easy. Such steadiness denoted that men had made up their 
minds, and that they would be apt to adhere to them, since one 
side was apparently as strong as the other. The circumstance 
called for a display of democratical tactics ; and Mr. New- 
come being very expert in such matters, he could have little 
difficulty in getting along with the simple people with whom he 
had to deal. 

'* You see how it is, fellow-citizens. The public has taken 
sides, and formed itself into two parties. From this moment 
the affair must be treated as a party question, and be decided 
on party principles ; though the majority must rule. Oh ! 
here, neighbor Willis; will you just step over to my house, 
and ask Miss Newcome (Anglice, Mrs. Newcome) to hand you 
the last volume of the State Laws ? Perhaps they have a word 



138 THECHAINBEARER. 

to say in the matter." Here neighbor Willis did as desired, 
and moved out of the crowd. As I afterward discovered, he 
was a warm Presbyterian, who haj)pened, unfortunately for his 
sect, to stand so directly before the moderator, as unavoidably 
to catch his eye. I suspected that 'Squire Newcome would 
now call a vote on the main question. But I did not know my 
man. This would have been too palpably a trick, and he care- 
fully avoided committing the blunder. There was plenty of 
time, since the moderator knew his wife could not very readily 
find a book he had lent to a magistrate in another settlement 
twenty miles off; so that he did not hesitate to have a little 
private conversation with one or two of his friends. 

" Not to be losing time, Mr. Moderator," said one of 'Squire 
Newcome' s confidants, "I will move you that it is the sense 
of this meeting, that the government of churches by means of 
a presbytery is anti-republican, opposed t« our glorious institu- 
tions, and at variance with the best interests of the human 
family. I submit the question to the public without debate, 
being content to know the unbiased sentiments of my fellow- 
citizens on the subject." 

The question was duly seconded and put, the result being 
thirty -nine for, and thirty-Sight against ; or a majority of one, 
that Presbyterian rule was anti-republican. This was a great 
coup de maitre. Having settled that it was opposed to the in- 
stitutions to have a presbytery, a great deal was gained toward 
establishing another denomination in the settlement. No relig- 
ion can maintain itself against political sentiments in this coun- 
try, politics coming home daily to men's minds and pockets. 

It is odd enough that, while all sects agree in saying that the 
Christian religion comes from God, and that its dogmas are to 
be received as the laws of Infinite "Wisdom, men should be 
found sufiiciently illogical, or sufficiently presumptuous, to im- 
agine that any, the least of its rules, are to be impaired or 
strengthened by their dissemblance or their conformity to any 
provisions of human institutions. As well might it be admitted 
at once, that Christianity is yiot of divine origin, or the still more 



THE CHAINBEARER. 139 

extravagant position be assumed, that the polity wliicli God 
himself has established can be amended by any of the narrow 
and short-sighted devices of man. Nevertheless, it is not to be 
concealed, that here, as elsewhere, churches are fashioned to 
suit the institutions, and not the institutions to suit the church. 

Having achieved so much success, the moderator's coniSdant 
pushed his advantage. 

" Mr. Moderator," he continued, '* as this question has alto- 
gether assumed a party character, it is manifestly proper that 
the party which has the majority should not be encumbered in 
its proceedings by the movements of the minority. Presbytery 
has been denounced by this meeting, and its friends stand 
in the light of a defeated party at a state election. They can 
have nothin' to do with the government. I move, therefore, 
that those who are opposed to Presbytery go into caucus, in 
order to appoint a committee to recommend to the majority a 
denomination which will be acceptable to the people of Eavens- 
nest. I hope the motion will be put without debate. The 
subject is a religious one, and it is unwise to awaken strife on 
any thing at all connected with religion." 

Alas ! alas ! How much injury has been done to the cause of 
Christianity, how much wrong to the laws of God, and even to 
good morals, by appeals of this nature, that are intended to 
smother inquiry, and force down on the timid, the schemes of 
the designing and fraudulent! Integrity is ever simple and 
frank ; while the devil resorts to these plans of plausible forbear- 
ance and seeming concessions, in order to veil his nefarious 
devices. 

The thing took, however ; for popular bodies, once under 
control, are as easily managed as the vessel that obeys her helm ; 
the strength of the current always giving additional power to 
that material portion of the ship. The motion was accordingly 
seconded and put. As there was no debate, which had been 
made to appear anti-religious, the result was precisely the same 
as on the last question. In other words, there was one majority 
for disfranchising just one-half the meeting, counting the above 



140 THE CIIAINBEAIIER. 

man ; and this, too, on the principle that the majority ought to 
rule. After this, the caucus people went into the school-house, 
Avhere it was understood a committee of twenty-six was ap- 
pointed, to recommend a denomination to the majority. This 
committee, so respectable in its character, and of so much in- 
fluence by its numbers, was not slow in acting. As became its 
moral weight, it unanimously reported that the Congregational 
polity was the one most acceptable to the people of Ravensnest. 
This report was accepted by acclamation, and the caucus ad- 
journed sine die. 

The moderator now called the Avhole meeting to order, again. 

"Mr. Moderator," said the confidant, "it is time that this 
community should come to some conclusion, in the premises. 
It has been agitated long enough, in its religious feelings, and 
further delay might lead to unpleasant and lasting divisions. I 
therefore move that it is the sense of this meetin' that the peo- 
ple of Ravensnest ardently wish to see the new meetin' -us, which 
is about to be raised, devoted and set apart for the services of 
the Congregational church, and that a Congregational church 
be organized, and a Congregational pastor duly called. I trust 
this question, like all the others, will be passed in perfect har- 
mony, and without debate, as becomes the solemn business we 
are on." 

The question was taken, and the old majority of one was 
found to be in its favor. Just as Mr. Moderator meekly an- 
nounced the result, his messenger appeared in the crowd, bawl- 
ing out, '"Squire, Miss Newcome says she can't noway find 
the volum', which she kind o' thinks youVe lent." 

*' Bless me ! so I have !" exclaimed the surprised magistrate. 
' It's not in the settlement, I declare ; but it's of no importance 
now, as a majority has fairly decided. Fellow-citizens, we have 
been dealing with the most important interest that consarns man ; 
his religious state, government, and well-being. Unanimity is 
very desirable on such a question ; and as it is tc be presumed 
no one will oppose the pop'lar will, I shall now put the question 
to vote for the purpose of obtaining that unanimity. Those 



THE CHAINBEAREK. 141 

vvLo are in favor of the Congregationals, or wlio ardently wish 
that denomination, will hold up their hands." 

About three-fourths of the hands went up at once. Cries 
of *' unanimity — unanimity" — followed, until one hand after 
another went up, and I counted seventy-three. The remaining 
voters continued recusant ; but as no question was taken on the 
other side, the vote may be said to have been a very decided 
one, if not positively unanimous. The moderator and two or 
three of his friends made short speeches, commending the lib- 
erality of a part of the citizens, and congratulating all, when the 
meeting was adjourned. 

Such were the facts attending the establishment of the Con- 
gregational church in the settlement of Ravensnest, on purely 
republican principles ; the question having been carried unani- 
mously in favor of that denomination, although fifty-two votes 
out of seventy-eight were pretty evidently opposed to it. But 
republican principles were properly maintained, and the matter 
was settled; the people having solemnly decided that they 
ardently wished for a church that in truth they did not desire 
at all. 

No complaints were made, on the spot at least. The crowd 
dispersed, and as Mr. Newcome walked through it, with the 
air of a beaten, rather than of a successful man, I came under 
his observation for the first time. lie examined me keenly, and 
I saw a certain air of doubt and misgivinor in his manner. Just 
at that moment, however, and before he had time to put a 
question, Jaap drove up in the wagon, and the negro was an 
old acquaintance, having often been at the Nest, and knowing 
the *squire for more than a quarter of a century. This explained 
the whole affair, a certain mixed resemblance to both father 
and mother which I am said to bear, probably aiding in making 
the truth more apparent. 

Mr. Newcome was startled — that was apparent in his coun- 
tenance — but he was nevertheless, self-possessed. Approaching, 
he saluted me, and at once let me know he understood who I was." 

''This is Major Littlepage, I s'pose," he said. **I can sea 



142 THE CIIAINBEARER. 

a good deal of the giii'ral in you, as I know'd your father when 
a young man; and something of Herman Mordaunt, your 
mother's father. How long is it sin' your arrival, Major Little- 
page ?" 

"But a few minutes," I answered, evasively. You see my 
wagon and sen^ant, there, and we are fresh from Albany. My 
arrival has been opportune, as all my tenants must be collected 
here at this moment." 

" Why, yes, sir — yes ; here are pretty much the whull of 
them. We have had a little meetin' to-day, to decide on the 
natur' of our religion, as one might say. I s'pose the major 
didn't get here until matters were coming to a head?" 

"You are quite right, Mr. Newcome, matters were coming 
to a head, as you say, before I got on the ground." 

The 'squire was a good deal relieved at this, for his con- 
science doubtless pricked him a little on the subject of the al- 
lusion he had made to me, and my own denomination. As for 
myself, I was not sorry to have got so early behind the curtain 
as to the character of my agent. It was pretty clear he was 
playing his own game as to some things, and it might be 
necessary for me to see that this propensity did not extend 
itself into other concerns. It is true, my mind was made up 
to change him, but there were long and intricate accounts to 
settle. 

"Yes, sir, religion is an interest of the greatest importance 
to man's welfare, and it has b'en (Anglice, been) too long neg- 
lected among us," continued the late moderator. " You see 
yonder the frame for a meetin'-us, the first that was ever com- 
menced in this settlement, and it is our intention to put it up 
this a'temoon. The bents arc all ready. The pike-poles are 
placed, and all is waiting for the word to * heave.' You'll per- 
ceive, 'squire, it was judicious to go to a sartain p'int, afore we 
concluded on the denomination. Up to that p'int every man 
would nat' rally work as if he was workin' for his own order; 
and we've seen the benefit of such policy, as there you can see 
the clapboards planed, the sash made and glazed, stuff" cut for 



THE CIIAINBEARER. 113 

pews, and every thing ready to put together. The very nails 
and paints are bought and paid for. In a word, nothing 
remains to be done, but to put together, and finish off, and 
preach." 

"Why did you not erect the edifice, 'and finish off,* as you 
call it, before you came to the test-vote, that I perceive you 
have just taken ?" 

" That would have been goin' a le-e-e-tle too far, major — a 
very le-e-e-tle. If you give a man too tight a hold, he doesn't 
like to let go, sometimes. We talked the matter over among 
us, and concluded to put the question before we went any 
further. All has turned out happily, and we have unanimously 
resolved to be Congregational. Unanimity in religion is a 
blessed thing!" 

**Do you apprehend no falling off in zeal, in consequence of 
this work ! no refusing to help pay the carpenters, and painters, 
and priest?" 

" Not much — a little, perhaps; but no great matter, I should 
judge. Your own liberal example, major, has had its influence, 
and I make no doubt will produce an effect." 

*'My example, sir! I do not understand you, Mr. Newcome, 
nev^er having heard of the church, until I heard your own allu- 
sions to it, as chairman of this very meeting." 

'Squire Newcome hemmed, cleared his throat, took an extra- 
sized chew of tobacco, and then felt himself equal to attempting 
an answer. 

"I call it your example, sir; though the authority for what 
I have done came from your honored father, General Littlepage, 
as long ago as before the revolution. War-times, you know, 
major, is no time for buildiu' meetin'-uses ; so we concluded to 
defer the matter until peace. Peace we have, and our own 
eends are fast approaching ; and I thought if the work was ever 
to be done, so that this generation should get the benefit of it, 
it should be done now. I was in hopes we should have had 
preachin' in the house afore your arrival, and surprised you with 
the cheerin' sight of a worshipping people on your lands. Here 



144 THE C II A I N B E A R E R . 

is your fatlier's letter, from wLich I read a paragrapli to tLo 
people, lialf an hour sin'." 

*' I trust the people have always been worshippers, though it 
may not have been in a house built expressly for the purpose. 
With your permission, I will read the letter." 

This document bore the date of lYYO, or fourteen years be- 
fore the time the building was erected, and five years before 
the battle of Lexington was fought. I was a little surprised at 
this, but read on. Among other things, I found that my father 
had given a general consent to credit his tenants with five hun- 
dred dollars to aid in the erection of a place of worship ; re- 
serving to himself, as my guardian, a voice in the choice of the 
denomination. I may add, here, that on examining the leases, 
I found credits had been given, in 1770, for the full amount ; 
and that the money, or what passed for money, the proceeds of 
work, produce, cattle, butter, cheese, &c., had been in Mr. 
Newcome's hands the whole of the intervening time, no doubt 
to his great advantage. Thus, by a tardy appropriation of my 
father's bounty, the agent was pretty certain of being able to 
finish the job in hand, even admitting that some of the people 
should prove restive under the recent decision. 

" And the money thus appropriated has gone to its destina- 
tion ?" I asked, on returning the letter. 

"Every copper has thus gone, major, or will soon go. 
When the First Congregational, of Ravensnest, is up, you can 
contemplate the house with the satisfaction of knowing that 
your own money has largely aided in the good work of its 
erection. What a delightful sentiment that must awaken ! It 
must be a great blessin' to landlords, to be able to remember how 
much of their money goes for the good of their fellow-mortals." 

" In my case, it certainly should, as I understand my father, 
and indeed have myself seen, by the accounts rendered to me, 
that not one dollar of rent has ever yet left tho settlement, to 
go into the pocket of the o^vner of the estate — nay, that the 
direct outlays of my grandfather were considerable, in addition 
to the first cost of the patent." 



THE CHAINBEARER. 145 

" I do not deny it, major ; I do not deny it. It is quite 
probable. But, you will consider what the spirit of Public 
Improvement demands; and you gentlemen-proprietors nat' rally 
look forward to futur' generations for your reward — yes, sir, to 
futur' generations. Then will come the time when these leased 
lands will turn to account, and you will enj'y the fruits of your 
liberality." 

I bowed, but made no answer. By this time, the wagon had 
reached the inn, and Jaap was getting out the trunk and other 
luggage. A rumor had gone forth among the people that their 
landlord had arrived, and some of the older tenants, those who 
had known ** Herman Mordaunt," as they all called my grand- 
father, crowded around me in a frank, hearty manner, in which 
good feeling was blended with respect. They desired to take 
mj hand. I shook hands with all who came, and can truly 
say that I took no man's palm into my own that day, without a 
sentiment that the relation of landlord and tenant was one that 
should induce kind and confidential feelings. The Ravensnest 
property was by no means necessary to my comfortable subsist- 
ence ; and I was really well enough disposed to look forward, 
if not to " future generations," at least to a future day, for the 
advantages that were to be reaped from it. I asked the crowd 
ia, ordered a tub of punch made, for, in that day, liquor was a 
necessary accompaniment of every welcome, and endeavored to 
make myself acceptable to my new friends. A throng of 
women, of whom I have not yet spoken, were also in attend- 
ance ; and I had to go through the ceremony of being intro- 
duced to many of the wives and daughters of Ravensnest. On 
the whole, the meeting was friendly, and my reception warm. 
1 



146 THE CH AINBKARBK. 



CHAPTER X. 

" Bear, through sorrow, wrong, and ruth, 
In thy heart the dew of youth, 
On thy lips the smile of truth." 

LONGFKLLOW. 

The ceremony of the introductions was not half tlirougli, 
wlien tliere was a noisy summons to the pike-poles. This called 
away the crowd in a body ; a raising in the country being an 
incident of too much interest to be overlooked. I profited by 
the occasion to issue a few orders that related to my own com- 
fort, when I went, myself, to the scene of present toil and future 
Congregationalism. 

Every body in America, a few inveterate cockneys excepted, 
have seen a "raising." Most people have seen hundreds; 
and, as for myself, I believe I should be safe in saying I had, 
even at that day, seen a thousand. In this particular instance, 
there were great felicitations among the yeomen, because the 
frame "had come together well." I w^as congratulated on this 
score, the hearty old Rhode Islander, my brother major, assur- 
ing me that " he couldn't get the blade of his knife, and it's 
no great matter of a knife either, into a single j'int. And, 
what is more, 'squire" — as the sturdy yeoman w^as a major 
himself, though only in the militia, that title would not have 
been honorable enough for his landlord — *' and, what is more, 
'squire, they tell me not a piece was ever tried, until we put the 
bents together, this a'ternoon, ourselves ! Now, down country, 
I never see'd sich a thing ; but, up here, the carpenters go by 
what they call the ' square-rule ;' and quick work they make 
on't !" This speech contained the substance of one of the 



THE CIIAINBEARER. 14*? 

contrivances by wliicli the " new countries" were endeavoring 
to catch up with the " old," as I learned on farther inquiries. 

It may be well to describe the appearance of the place, when 
I reached the site of the new **meetin'-us." The great body 
of the "people" had just taken their stands at the first bent, 
ready for a lift, while trusty men stood at the feet of the posts, 
armed with crowbars, broad-axes, or such other suitable im- 
plements as offered, in readiness to keep those essential uprights 
in their places ; for, on the steadiness of these persons, depend- 
ed the limbs and lives of those who raised the bent. As this 
structure was larger than common, the danger was increased, 
and the necessity of having men that could be relied on was 
obviously so much the greater. Of one post, in particular, for 
some reason that I do not know, all the trusty men seemed 
shy ; each declaring that he thought some one else better suited 
to take charge of it, than he was himself. The " boss" — that 
Manhattanese word having travelled up to Ravensnest — called 
out for some one to take the delicate station, as nothing de- 
tained the work but the want of a hand there ; and one looked 
at another, to see who would step forward, when a sudden cry 
arose of "the Chainbearer! — the Chainbearer! Here's your 
man!" 

Sure enough, there came old Andries Coejemans, hale, up- 
right, vigorous, and firm-treading, though he had actually seen 
his threescore years and ten. My ancient comrade had thrown 
aside nearly every trace of his late military profession, though the 
marchings and drillings of eight years were not to be worked out 
of a man's air and manner in a twelvemonth. The only sign of 
the soldier, other than in his bearing, I could trace about my 
brother captain, was the manner in which his queue was clubbed. 
Andries wore his own hair ; this his early pursuits in the forest 
rendered necessary ; but it had long been clubbed in a sort of 
miUtary fashion, and to that fashion he now adhered. In other 
respects he had transformed himself entirely into a woodsman. 
He wore a hunting-shirt, like myself; leggings, moccasins, and 
a cap of skins that had been deprived of their furs. So far 



148 THE CHAINBEARER. 

from lessening in any degree tlie fine eftect of liis green old age, 
however, this attire served to increase it. Andries Coejemans 
stood six feet, at seventy ; was still as erect as he had been at 
twenty ; and so far from betraying the inroads of age on his 
frame, the last appeared to be indurated and developed by what 
it had borne. His head was as white as snow, while his face 
nad the ruddy, weather-beaten color of health and exposure. 
The face had always been handsome, having a very unusual 
expression of candor and benevolence impressed on features that 
were bold and manly. 

The Chainbearer could not have seen me, until he stepped 
upon the frame. Then, indeed, there was no mistaking the 
expression of his countenance, which denoted pleasure and 
friendly interest. Striding over the timber, with the step of a 
man long accustomed to tread among dangers of all sorts, he 
grasped my hand, and gave it such a squeeze as denoted the 
good condition of his own muscles and sinews. I saw a tear 
twinkling in his eye ; for had I been his own son, I do not 
think he could have loved me more. 

** Mortaunt, my poy, you're heartily welcome," said my old 
comrade. "You haf come upon t'ese people, I fancy, as t'e 
cat steals upon t'e mice ; but I had titings of your march, and 
have peen a few miles town t'e roat to meet you. How, or 
where you got past me, is more t'an I know, for I haf seen 
nuttin' of you or of your wagon." 

"Yet here we both are, my excellent old friend, and most 
happy am I to meet you again. If you will go with me to the 
tavern, we can talk more at our ease.'* 

"Enough, enough for t'e present, young comrate. Pusinesa 
is standing still a little, for t'e want of my hant ; step off the 
frame, lat, and let ns get up t'ese pents, when I am your man 
for a week or a year." 

Exchanging looks, and renewing the warm and friendly 
pressure of the hand, we parted for the moment ; I quitting the 
frame, while the Chainbearer went at once to the foot of the 
important post, or to that station no one else would assume 



THE CIIAINBEARER 149 

Then commenced, without further delay, the serious toil of 
raising a bent. This work is seldom entirely free from hazard ; 
and on this particular occasion, when the force in men was a 
little disproportioned to the weight of the timber, it was doubly 
incumbent on every man to be true and steady. My attention 
was at once attracted to the business in hand ; and for several 
minutes I thought of little else. The females had drawn as 
liear the spot where their husbands, brothers, and lovers were 
exerting every muscle and nerve, as comported with prudence ; 
and a profound and anxious quiet pervaded the whole of a 
crowd that was gay with rustic finery, if not very remarkable 
for taste or refinement. Still, the cluster of females had little 
in it that was coarse or even unfeminine, if it had not much that 
would be so apt to meet the eye, in the way of the attractive, 
in a similar crowd of the present day. The improvement in 
the appearance and dress of the wives and daughters of hus- 
bandmen has been very marked among us within the last five- 
and- twenty years. . Fully one-half of those collected on this 
occasion were in short gowns, as they were called, a garb that 
has almost entirely disappeared ; and the pillions that were to 
be seen on the bodies of nearly all the horses that were fastened 
to the adjacent fences, showed the manner in which they had 
reached the ground. The calicoes of that day were both dear 
and homely ; and it required money to enable a woman to ap- 
pear in a dress that would be thought attractive to the least 
practised eye. Nevertheless, there were many pretty girls in 
that row of anxious faces, with black eyes and blue, light, black, 
and brown hair, and of the various forms and hues in which 
female beauty appears in the youthful. 

I flatter myself that I was as comely as the generality of 
young men of my age and class, and that, on ordinary occa- 
sions, I could not have shown myself before that cluster of 
girls, without drawing to myself some of their glances. Such 
was not the case, however, when I left the frame, which now 
attracted all eyes. On that, and on those who surrounded it, 
every eye and every anxious face was turned, my own included. 



150 THE CHAINBEARER. 

It was a moment of deep interest to all ; and most so to tliosc 
who could ovl\j feel, and not act. 

At the word, the men made a simultaneous effort ; and they 
raised the upper part of the bent from the timber on which it 
lay. It was easy to see that the laborers, stout and willing as 
they were, had as much as they could lift. Boys stood ready, 
however, with short pieces of scantling to place upright be- 
neath the bent ; and the men had time to breathe. I felt a 
little ashamed of having nothing to do at such a moment ; but, 
fearful of doing harm instead of good, I kept aloof, and remained 
a mere spectator. 

*' Now, men," said the " boss," who had taken his stand 
where he could overlook the work, "we will make ready for 
another lift. All at once makes light Avork — arc you ready ? — 
He-e-a-ve." 

Heave, or lift, the stout fellows did ; and with so much intel- 
ligence and readiness, that the massive timber was carried up as 
high as their heads. There it stopped, supported as before, by 
short pieces of scantling. 

The pike-poles next came in play. This is always the heavi- 
est moment of a lift of that sort, and the men made their dis- 
positions accordingly. Short poles were first got under the 
bent, by thrusting the unarmed ends into the cavity of the 
foundation ; and a few of the stoutest of the men stood on 
blocks, prepared to apply their strength directly. 

"Are you ready, men?" called out the boss. '* This is our 
heaviest bent, and we come to it fresh. Look out well to the 
foot of each post — Chainbearer, I count on you — your post is 
the king-post of the whole frame ; if that goes, all goes. Make 
ready, men ; heave altogether — that's a lift. Heave again, men 
— ^he-e-a-ve — altogether now — he-e-a-ve ! Up she goes; 
he-e-a-ve — more pike-poles — stand to the frame, boys — get 
along some studs — he-e-a-ve — in with your props — so, catch a 
little breath, men." 

It was time to take breath, of a certainty ; for the effort had 
been tremendously severe. The bent had risen, however, and 



THE CIIAINBEARER. 151 

now stood, siii^ported as before by props, at an angle of some 
fifteen degrees with tlie plane of tlie building, wliicli carried all 
but the posts beyond the reach of hands. The pike-pole was 
to do the rest ; and the next ten degrees to be overcome would 
probably cause the greatest expenditure of force. As yet, all 
had gone well, the only drawback being the certainty which 
had been obtained, that the strength present was hardly suffi- 
cient to get up so heavy a bent. Nevertheless, there was no 
remedy, every pei'^on on the ground who could be of use, but 
myself, having his station. A well-looking, semi-genteel young 
man, whose dress was two-thirds forest and one-third town, had 
come from behind the row of females, stepped upon the frame, 
and taken his post at a pike-pole. The uninitiated reader will 
understand that those who raise a building necessarily stand 
directly under the timber they are lifting ; and that a down- 
fall would bring them beneath a fearful trap. Bents do some- 
times come down on the laborers ; and the result is almost cer- 
tain destruction to those who are caught beneath the timber. 
Notwithstanding the danger and the difficulty in the present 
case, good-humor prevailed, and a few jokes were let off at the 
expense of the Congregation alists and the late moderator. 

" Agree, 'squire," called out the hearty old Khode Islander, 
"to let in some of the other denominations occasionally, and 
see how the bent will go up. Presbytery is holding back des- 
perately !" 

" I hope no one supposes," answered Mr. Moderator, *' that 
religious liberty doesn't exist in this settlement. Sartainly — 
sartainly — other denominations can always use this house, when 
it isn't wanted by the right owners." 

Those words ** right owners" were unfortunate ; the stronger 
the right, the less the losing party liking to hear of it. Not- 
withstanding, there was no disposition to skulk, or to abandon 
the work ; and two or three of the dissentients took their re- 
venge on the spot, by hits at the moderator. Fearful that there 
might be too much talk, the boss now renewed his call for 
attention to the work. 



152 THE CHAIN BEARER. 

"Let US till go together, men," he added. " We've got to 
the pinch, and must stand to the work like well-broke cattle. 
If every man at the frame will do his best for just one minute, 
the hardest will be over. You see that upright stud there, with 
that boy, Tim Trimmer at it ; just raise the bent so that Timmy 
can get the eend of that stud under it, and all will be safe. 
Look to the lower eend of the stud, Tim ; is it firm and well 
stopped f^ 

Tim declared it was ; but two or three of the men went and 
examined it, and after making a few alterations, they too assured 
the boss it could not get away. A short speech was then 
made, in which every man was exhorted to do his best; and 
every body in particular, was reminded of the necessity of 
standing to his work. After that speech, the men raised the 
pike-poles, and placed themselves at their stations. Silent ex- 
pectation succeeded. 

As yet, not a sign, look, or word, had intimated either wish 
or expectation that I was to place myself in the ranks. I will 
confess to an impulse to that effect ; for who can look on and 
see their fellow- creatures straining every muscle, and not sub- 
mit to human sympathy ? But the recollection of military rank, 
and private position, had not only their claims, but their feel- 
ings. I did go a step or two nearer to the frame, but I did not 
put my foot on it. 

" Get ready, men" — called the boss, " for a last time. Alto- 
gether at the word — now's your time — he-e-a-ve — he-e-e-a-ve — 
he-e-e-e-ave 1" 

The poor fellows did heave, and it was only too evident that 
they were staggering under the enormous pressure of the mas- 
sive timber. I stepped on the frame at the very centre, or at 
the most dangerous spot, and applied all my strength to a pike- 
pole. 

" Hurrah !" shouted the boss — "there comes the young land- 
lord ! — he-e-ave, every man his best ! — he-e-e-e-ave !" 

AVe did heave our best, and we raised the bent several feet 
above its former props, but' not near enough to reach the new 



THE CHAINBEARER. 153 

ones, by au inch or two. Twenty voices now called on every 
man to stand to liis work ; for every body felt the importance 
of even a boy's strength. The boss rushed forward like a man, 
to our aid ; and then Tim, fancying his stud would stand with- 
out his support, left it and flew to a pike-pole. At this mis- 
take the stud fell a little on one side, where it could be of no 
use. My face was so placed that I saw this dangerous circum- 
stance ; and I felt that the Aveight I upheld, individually, grew 
more like lead at each instant. I knew by this time that our 
force was tottering under the downward pressure of the enor- 
mous bent. 

" He-e-e-ave, men — for your lives, he-eave !" exclaimed the 
boss, like one in the agony. 

The tones of his voice sounded to me like those of despair. 
Had a single boy deserted us then, and we had twenty of them 
on the frame, the whole mass of timber must have come down 
upon us. Talk of charging into a battery ? What is there in 
that to try men's nerves, like the situation in which we were 
placed? The yielding of a muscle, in all that straining, lifting 
body, might have ruined us. A most fearful, frightful, twenty 
seconds followed ; and just as I had abandoned hope, a young 
female darted out of the anxious, pale-faced crowd that was 
looking on in a terror and agony that may be better conceived 
than described, and seizing the stud, she placed it alongside of 
the post. But an inch was wanted to gain its support ; but 
how to obtain that inch ! I now raised my voice, and called 
on the fainting men to heave. They obeyed ; and I saw that 
spirited, true-eyed, firm-handed girl place the prop precisely 
where it was wanted. All that end of the bent felt the relief 
instantly, and man after man cautiously withdrew from under 
tiie frame, until none remained but those who upheld the other 
side. We flew to the relief of those, and soon had a number 
of props in their places, when all drew back and looked on the 
danger from which they had escaped, breathless and silent. 
For myself, I felt a deep sense of gratitude to God for the 
escape. 



154 THE CHAINBEARER. 

This occurrence made a profound iropression. Every body 
was sensible of the risk that had been run, and of the ruin that 
might have befallen the settlement. I had caught a glimpse of 
the rare creature whose decision, intelligence, and presence of 
mind had done so much for us all ; and to me she seemed to 
be the loveliest being of her sex my eyes had ever lighted on ! 
Her form, in particular, was perfection ; being just the medium 
between fbminine delicacy and rude health ; or just so much 
of the last as could exist without a shade of coarseness ; and 
the little I saw of a countenance that was nearly concealed by 
a maze of curls that might well be termed golden, appeared to 
me to correspond admirably with that form. Nor was there 
any thing masculine or unseemly in the deed she had performed, 
to subtract in any manner from the feminine character of her 
appearance. It was decided, useful, and in one sense benevo- 
lent ; but a boy might have executed it so far as physical force 
was concerned. The act required coolness, intelligence, and 
courage, rather than any masculine power of body. 

It is possible that, aware as I was of the jeopardy in which 
we were all placed, my imagination may have heightened the 
effect of the fair apparition that had come to save us, as it 
might be, like a messenger from above. But, even there, 
where I stood panting from the effect of exertions that I have 
never equalled in my own case most certainly, exhausted, near- 
ly breathless, and almost unable to stand, my mind's-eye saw 
nothing but the flexible form, the elastic, ready step, the golden 
tresses, the cheek suffused by excitement, the charming lips 
compressed with resolution, and the whole air, attitude and 
action, characterized, as was each and all, by the devotion, 
readiness and loveliness of her sex. When my pulses beat 
more regularly, and my heart ceased to throb, I looked around 
in quest of that strange vision, but saw no one who could, in 
the least, claim to be connected with it. The females had 
huddled together, like a covey that was frightened, and were 
exclaiming, holding up their hands, and indulging in the signs 
of alarm that are customary with their sex and class. The 



THE CHAINBEARKR. 155 

" vision" was certainly not in that group, but had vanished, as 
suddenly as it had appeared. 

At this juncture, the Chainbearer came forward, and took 
the command. I could see he was agitated — affected might be 
a. better word — but he was, nevertheless, steady and authorita- 
tive. He was obeyed, too, in a manner I was delighted to see. 
The order of the ** boss" had 'produced no such impressions as 
those which old Andries now issued ; and I really felt an im- 
pulse to obey them myself, as I would have done eighteen 
months before, when he stood on the right of our regiment as 
its oldest captain. 

The carpenter yielded his command to the Chainbearer with- 
out a murmur. Even 'Squire Ncwcome evidently felt that 
Andries was one who, in a certain way, could influence the 
minds of the settlers more than he could do it himself. In 
short, every body listened, every body seemed pleased, and 
every body obeyed. Nor did my old friend resort to any of 
the coaxing that is so common in America, when men are to 
be controlled in the country. In the towns, and wherever men 
are to be commanded in bodies, authority is as well understood 
as it is in any other quarter of the world ; but, in the interior, 
and especially among the people of New England habits, very 
few men carry sufficient command with them to say, " John, do 
this," or "John, do that ;" but it is "Johnny, why won't you do 
this ?" or "Johnny, donU you think you'd better do that?" The 
Chainbearer had none of this mystified nonsense about him. 
He called things by their right names ; and when he wanted a 
spade, he did not ask for a hoe. As a consequence, he was 
obeyed, command being just as indispensable to men, on a 
thousand occasions, as any other quality. 

Every thing was soon ready again, with the men stationed a 
little differently from what they had previously been. This 
change was the Chainbearer's, who understood mechanics prac- 
tically ; better, perhaps, than if he had been a first-rate mathe- 
matician. Tlie word was given to heave, all of us being at the 
pike-poles ; when up went the bent, as if borne upon by a 



156 THE CHAINBEARER. 

force that was irresistible. Sucli was the effect of old Andries' 
habits of command, which not only caused every man to lift 
with all his might, but the whole to lift together. A bent that 
is perpendicular is easily secured ; and then it was announced 
that the heaviest of the work was over. The other bents were 
much lighter ; and one up, there were means of aiding in rais- 
ing the rest that were at first wanting. 

"The Congregationals has got the best on't," cried out the 
old ]ihode Islander, laughing, as soon as the bent was stay- 
lathed, **by the help of the Chainbearer and somebody else I 
wunt name ! Well, our turn will come, some day ; for Ravens- 
nest is a place in which the people wont be satisfied with one 
religion. A country is badly on't, that has but one religion 
in't ; priests getting lazy, and professors dull !'* 

" You may be sure of t'at," answered the Chainbearer, who 
was evidently making preparations to quit the frame. *' Ravens- 
nest will get as many religions, in time, as t'ere are discontented 
spirits in it ; and t'ey will need many raisings, and more 
priests." 

" Do you intend to leave us, Chainbearer ? There's more 
posts to hold, and more bents to lift?" 

'' The worst is over, and you've force enough wit' out me, 
for what remains to be tone. I haf t'e lantlort to take care of. 
Go to your work, men ; and, if you can, rememper you haf a 
peing to worship in t'is house, t'at is neit'er Congregational, 
nor Presbyterian, nor any thing else of the nature of your dis- 
putes and self-conceit. 'Squire Newcome wilt gif you a leat in 
t'e way of I'arning, and t'e carpenter can act boss well enough 
for t'e rest of t'e tay." 

" I was surprised at the coolness with which my old friend 
delivered himself of sentiments that were not very likely to find 
favor in such a company, and the deference that he received, 
while thus ungraciously employed. But I afterward ascer- 
tained Andries commanded respect by means of his known 
integrity ; and his opinions carried weight because he was a man 
who usually said " come, boys," and not one who issued his 



THE CHAINBEARER. 15V 

orders in the words *' go, boys." This had been his character 
in the army, where, in his own little circle, he was known as 
one ever ready to lead in person. Then Andries was a man of 
sterling truth ; and such a man, when he has the moral courage 
to act up to his native impulses, mingled with discretion enough 
to keep him within the boundaries of common prudence, insen- 
sibly acquires great influence over those with whom he :s 
brought in contact. Men never fail to respect such qualities, 
however little they put them in practice in their own cases. 

*'Come, Morty, my poy," said the Chainbearer, as soon as 
we were clear of the crowd, " I will pe your guite, ant take you 
to a roof unter which you will pe master." 

" You surely do not mean the 'Nest?" 

" T'at, and no ot'er. T'e olt place looks, like us olt soltiers, 
a little rusty, and t'e worse for sarvice ; put it is comfortaple, 
and I haf had it put in order for you, poy. Your grandfat'er's 
furniture is still t'ere ; and Frank Malpone, Dus and I, haf mate 
it head-quarters, since we haf peen in t'is part of t'e country. 
You know I haf your orters for t'at." 

" Certainly, and to use any thing else that is mine. But I 
had supposed you fairly hutted in the woods of Mooseridge !" 

" T'at hast peen tone, too ; sometimes we are at one place, 
and sometimes at anot'er. My niggers are at t'e hut ; put Frank, 
and Dus and I haf come ofer to welcome you to t'e country." 

'' I have a wagoner here, and my own black — let me step to 
the inn, and order them to get ready for us. 

" Mortaunt, you and I haf peen uset to our feet. The soltier 
marches, and countermarches, wit' no wagon to caiTy hiin ; he 
leafs t'em to t'e paggage, and t'e paggage-guart." 

*' Come on, old Andries ; I will be your comrade, on foot or 
on horseback. It can only be some three or four miles, and 
Jaap can follow with the trunks at his leisure." 

A word spoken to the negro was all that was necessary ; 
though the meeting between him and the Chainbearer was that 
of old fiiends. Jaap had gone through the whole war with 
the regiment, sometimes acting as my father's servant, some- 



158 THE CHAINBEARBR. 

times carrying a musket, sometimes driving a team ; and, at 
the close of his career, as my particular attendant. He conse- 
quently regarded himself as a sort of soldier, and a very good 
one had he proved himself to be, on a great many occasions. 

'' One word before we start, Chainbearer," I said, as old 
Andries and Jaap concluded their greetings; "I fell in with 
the Indian you used to call Sureflint, in the woods, and I wish 
to take him with us." 

" He hast gone aheat, to let your visit pe known," answered 
my friend. " I saw him going up t'e roat, at a quick trot, half 
an hour since. He is at t'e 'Nest py t'is time." 

No more remained to be said or done, and we went our way, 
leaving the people busily engaged in getting up the remainder 
of the frame. I had occasion to observe that my arrival pro- 
duced much less sensation in the settlement than it might have 
done, had not the "meeting-house" been my competitor in 
attracting attention. One was just as much of a novelty as the 
other ; just as much of a stranger. Although born in a Christian 
land, and educated in Christian dogmas, very few of those who 
dwelt on the estate of Ravensnest, and who were under the age 
of five-and-twenty, had ever seen an edifice that was constructed 
for the purpose of Christian worship at all. Such structures 
were rare indeed, in the year 1784, and in the interior of New 
York. Albany had but two, I believe ; the capital may have 
had a dozen ; and most of the larger villages possessed at least 
one ; but with the exception of the old counties, and here and 
there one on the Mohawk, the new state could not boast of 
many of '' those silent fingers pointing to the sky," rising among 
its trees, so many monitors of a future world, and. of the great 
end of life. As a matter of course, all those who had never 
seen a church, felt the liveliest desire to judge of the form and 
proportions of this ; and as the Chainbearer and I passed the 
crowd of females, I heard several good-looking girls expressing 
their impatience to see something of the anticipated steeple, 
while scarce a glance was bestowed on myself. 

" Well, my old friend, here we are together, again, march- 



THE CHAIN BEARER. 159 

ing on a public liighway," I remarked, " but witb no intention 
of encamping in front of an enemy." 

"I bope not," returned Andries, dryly; " t'ougb all is not 
golt t'at glitters. We bave fougbt a bart battle. Major Little- 
page ; I bope it will turn out for a goot end." 

I was a little surprised at tbis remark ; but Andries was never 
very sanguine in bis anticipations of good. Like a true Dutcb- 
man, be particularly distrusted tbe immigration from tbe eastern 
states, wbicb I bad beard bim often say could bring no bappy 
results. 

** All will come round in tbe end, Cbainbearer," I answered, 
** and we sball get tbe benefits of our toil and dangers. But 
bow do you come on at tbe Ridge, and wbo is tbis suiTeyor of 
yours?" 

*'T'ings do well enougb at t'e Ridge, Mortaunt; for Vere 
t'ere is not a soul yet to make trouple. We bave prougbt you 
a map of ten t'ousant acres, laid off in buntret acre lots, wbicb 
I will venture to say baf peen as bonestly and carefully meas- 
uret as any otber ten t'ousant acres in t'e state. We pegan 
next to t'is property, and you may pcgin to lease, on your fat'- 
cr's lant, just as soon as you please." 

"And tbe Frank Malbone, you bave written about, did tbe 
surveying ?" 

"He worket up my measurements, lat, and closely tone t'ey 
are, I'll answer for it. T'is Frank Malbone is t'e brol'er of 
Dus — t'at is to say, ber balf-brot'er ; peing no nepbew of mine. 
Dus, you know, is only a balf-niece in bloot ; but sbe is a full 
da'ter in lofe. As for Frank, be is a goot fellow ; and t'ougb 
t'is is bis first jop at surfeying, be may be dependet on wit' as 
mucb confitence as any ot'er man going." 

" No matter if a few mistakes are made, Andries ; land is 
not diamonds in tbis country ; tbere is plenty for us all, and a 
great deal to spare. It would be a different matter if tbere was 
a scarcity; but as it is, give good measure to tbe tenant or 
tbe purcbaser. A first survey can only produce a little loss 
or gain ; wbereas surveys between old arms are full of trouble." 



160 THE CIIAINBEARER. 

** Ant lawsuits" — put in the Chainbearer, nodding his head. 
" To tell you my mint, Mortaunt, I would rat'er take a jop in a 
Dutch settlement, at half-price, t'an run a line petween two 
Yankees for twice the money. Among t'e Dutch, t'e owners 
light their pipes, and smoke whilst you are at work ; but the 
Yankees are the whole time trying to cut off a little here, and 
to gain a little t'ere ; so t'at it is as much as a man's conscience 
is wort' to carry a chain fairly petween 'em." 

As I knew his prejudice on this subject formed the weak 
point in the Chainbearer, I gave the discourse a new turn, by 
leading it to political events, of which I knew him to be fond. 
We walked on, conversing on various topics connected with this 
theme, for near an hour, when I found myself rather suddenly 
quite near to my own particular house. Near by, the building 
had more of shape and substance than it had seemed to pos- 
sess when seen from the height ; and I found the orchards and 
meadows around it free from stumps and other eye-sores, and 
in good order. Still, the place on its exterior, had a sort of 
gaol look, there being no windows, nor any other outlet than 
the door. On reaching the latter, which was a gate, rather 
than an ordinary entrance, we paused a moment to look about 
us. While we stood there, gazing at the fields, a form glided 
through the opening, and Sureflint stood by my side. He 
had hardly got there, when there arose the strains of the 
same full, rich, female voice, singing Indian words to a civilized 
melody, as I had heard issuing from the thicket of pines, among 
the second growth of the forest. From that moment I forgot 
my fields and orchards, forgot the Chainbearer and Sureflint, 
and could think of nothing but of the extraordinary circum- 
stance of a native girl's possessing such a knowledge of our 
music. The Indian himself seemed entranced ; never moving 
until the song or verses were ended. Old Andries smiled, 
waited until the last strain was finished, pronounced the word 
"Dus" with emphasis, and beckoned for me to follow him into 
the building. 



THE C H A I N B E A R E K . 161 



CHAPTER XL 

"The fault will be in the music, cousin, if you be not woo'd in good time; if tlic 
prince be too important, tell him tliere is measure for every thing, and so dance out 
the answer." Beatkicii. 

*' Dus !" I repeated to myself — " This, then, is Dus, and no 
Indian girl; the Chainbearer's 'Dus;' Priscilla Bayard's 'Dus;' 
and Sureflint's * wren !' " 

Andries must have overheard me, in part; for he stopped just 
within the court on which the gate opened, and said — 

"Yes, t'at is Dus, my niece. The girl is like a mocking 
pird, and catches the songs of all languages and people. She 
is goot at Dutch, and quite melts my heart, Mortaunt, when 
she opens her throat to sing one of our melancholy Dutch 
songs ; and she gives the English too, as if she knowet no ot'er 
tongue." 

" But that song was Indian — the words, at least, were 
Mohawk or Oneida." 

" Onondago — t'ere is little or no tifference. Yes, you're 
right enough ; the worts are Indian, and they tell me t'e music 
is Scotch. Come from where it will, it goes straight to the 
heart, poy." 

"How came Dus — how came Miss Ursula — that is, your 
niece, to understand an Indian dialect ?" 

"Didn't I tell you she is a perfect mocking-bird, and that 
she imitates all she hears ? Yes, Dus would make as goot a 
surveyor as her brot'er, after a week's trial. You've heart me 
say how much I livet among the tripes before t'e war, and Dus 
was t'en wit' me. In that manner she has caught the lan- 
guage ; and what she has once I'arnet she nefer forget. Dus 
is half wilt from living so much in the woots, and you must 



162 THE CIIAINBEARER. 

make allowances for licr ; put slie is a capital gal, and t'c very 
prite of my heart 1" 

" Tell me one thing before we enter the house ; — does any 
one else sing Indian about liere ? — has Sureflint any women 
with him ?" 

" JSTot he ! — t'e creatur' hast not'ing to do wit' squaws. As 
for any one else's singing Intian, I can only tell you I never 
heart of such a person." 

*'But, you told me you were down the road to meet me tliia 
morning — were you alone ?" 

" Not at all — we all went ; Sureflint, Frank, Dus and I. I 
t' ought it due to a lantlort, Mortaunt, to gif him a hearty wel- 
come ; t'ough Dus did mutiny a little, and sait t'at, lantlort or 
no lantlort, it was not proper for a young gal to go forth to meet 
a young man. I might have t'ought so too, if it hadn't peen 
yourself, my poy ; but, with you, I couldn't play stranger, as 
one woult wit' a straggling Yankee. I wishet to welcome you 
wit' the whole family; put I'll not conceal Dus's unwillingness 
to be of t'e party." 

*'But Dus was of your party ! It is very odd we did not 
meet !" 

** Now, you speak of it, I do pelief it wast all owin' to a 
scheme of t'at cunnin' gal ! You must know, Mortaunt, a'ter 
we had got a pit down t'e roat, she persuatet us to enter a 
t'icket of pines, in order to eat a mout'ful ; and I do pelief the 
cunnin' hussy just did it t'at you might slip past, and she safe 
her female dignity !" 

" And from those pines Sureflint came, just after Dus, as t/ou 
call her, but Miss Ursula Malbone as I ought to style her, had 
been singing this very song ?" 

*' Wast you near enough to know all t'is, poy, and we miss 
you ! The gal dit sing t'at ferry song ; yes, I rememper it ; 
and a sweet, goot song it is. Call her Miss Ursula Malbone ? 
Why shouldn't you call her Dus, as well as Frank and I ?" 

"For the simple reason that you are uncle, and Frank her 
brother, while I am a total stranger." 



THE CII AINBE AK E R. 1G3 

** Poll — poll — Morty ; t'is is peing partic'lar. I am only a 
half-uncle, in the first place ; and Frank is only a half-brot'er; 
and I dares to say you wilt pe her whole frient. T'en, you are 
not a stranger to any of t'e family, I can tell you, lat ; for I haf 
talket enough apout you to make hot' t'e poy and t'e gal lofe 
you almost as much as I do myself." 

Poor, simple-hearted, upright old Andries! What an un- 
pleasant feeling did he give me, by letting me into the secret 
that I was about to meet persons who had been listening to his 
partial accounts for the last twelve months. It is so difficult to 
equal expectations thus awakened ; and I will own that I had 
begun to be a little sensitive on the subject of this Dus. The 
song had been ringing in my ears from the moment I first heard 
it; and now that it became associated with Priscilla Bayard's 
Ursula Malbone, the latter had really become a very formidable 
person to my imagination. There was no retreating, however, 
had I wished it ; and a sign induced the Chainbearer to proceed. 
Face the young woman I must, and the sooner it was done the 
better. 

The Nest-house, as my homely residence was termed, had 
been a sort of fortress, or "garrison," in its day, having been 
built around three sides of a parallelogram, with all its windows 
and doors opening on the court. On the fourth side were the 
remains of pickets, or palisades, but they w^ere mostly rotted 
away, being useless as a fence, from the circumstance that the 
buildings stood on the verge of a low cliflf that, of itself, formed 
a complete barrier against the invasions of cattle, and no insig- 
nificant defence against those of man. 

The interior of the Nest-house was far more inviting than its 
exterior. The windows gave the court an appearance of life 
and gayety, at once converting that which was otherwise a pile 
of logs, thrown together in the form of a building, into a habit- 
able and inhabited dwelling. One side of this court, however, 
was much neater, and had much more the air of comfort than 
the other ; and toward the first Andries led the way. I was 
aware that my grandfather Mordaunt had caused a few rooms 



164 THE CHAINBEARER. 

in tliis building to be furnislied for bis own particular purposes, 
and tbat no orders bad ever been given to remove or to dispose 
of tbe articles tbus provided. I was not surprised, tberefore, 
on entering tbe bouse, to find myself in apartments wbicb, 
wbile tbey could not be called in any manner gayly or ricbly 
furnisbed, were nevertbeless quite respectably supplied witb 
most of tbe articles tbat are tbougbt necessary to a certain 
manner of living. 

*' We sball fint Dus in bere, I dare say," observed tbe 
Cbainbearer, throwing open a door, and signing for me to 
precede bim. **Go in, and sbake t'e gal's band, Mortaunt; 
she knows you well enough, name and natur', as a poty may 
say,'* 

I did go in, and found myself within a few feet of tbe fair, 
golden-haired girl of the raising ; she who had saved tbe frame 
from falling on us all, by a decision of mind and readiness of 
exertion that partook equally of courage and dexterity. She 
was in the same dress as when first seen by me, though the 
difierence in attitude and employment certainly gave her aii 
and expression a very different character. Ursula Malbone was 
now quietly occupied in hemming one of those coarse checked 
handkerchiefs that the poverty of her uncle compelled him, or 
at least induced him to use, and of which I had seen one in bis 
hands only a minute before. On my entrance she rose, gravely 
but not discourteously answering my bow with a profound 
courtesy. Neither spoke, though the salutes were exchanged as 
between persons who felt no necessity for an introduction in 
order to know each other. 

" Well, now," put in Andries, in his strongest Dutch accent, 
'*t' is wilt never do, ast petween two such olt frients. Come 
hit'er, Dus, gal, and gif your bant to Mortaunt Littlepage, who 
ist a sort of son of my own." 

Dus obeyed, and I bad the pleasure of holding her soft 
velvet-like hand in mine for one moment. I felt a gratification 
I cannot describe in finding the hand was so soft, since the fact 
gave me tbe assurance tbat necessity had not yet reduced her to 



THE CHAINBEAREll. 105 

any of the toil that is unsuited to a gentlewoman. I knew that 
Andries had slaves, his only possession, indeed, besides his 
compass, chains and sword, unless a few arms and some rude 
articles of the household were excepted ; and these slaves, old 
and worn out as they must be by this time, were probably the 
means of saving the niece from the performance of offices that 
were menial. 

Although I got the hand of Ursula Malbone, I could not 
catch her eye. She did not avert her face, neither did she 
affect coldness ; but she was not at her ease. I could readily 
perceive that she would have been better pleased had her uncle 
permitted the salutations to be limited to the bows and courtesies. 
As I had never seen this girl before, and could not have done 
any thing to offend her, I ascribed the whole to mauvaise honte, 
and the embarrassment that was natural enough to one who 
found herself placed in a situation so different from that in 
which she had so lately been. I bowed on the hand, possibly 
gave it a gentle pressure in order to reassure its owner, and we 
separated. 

" Well, now, Dus, haf you a cup of tea for the lantlort — 
to welcome him to his own house wit' ?" demanded Andries, 
perfectly satisfied with the seemingly amicable relations he 
had established between us. *'T'e major hast hat a long 
march, for peaceable times, and woult be glat to git a little 
refreshment." 

'' You call me major, Chainbearer, while you refuse to accept 
the same title for yourself." 

"Ay, t'ere ist reason enough for t'at. You may lif to be a 
general; wilt ■pTohahlj he one before you're t'irty; but I am 
an olt man, now, and shall never wear any ot'er uniform than 
this I have on again. I pegan t'e worlt in this corps, Morty, 
and shall end it in the rank in which I began." 

"I thought you had been a surveyor originally, and that you 
fell back on the chain because you had no taste for figures. I 
think I have heard as much from yourself." 

» Yes, t'at is t'e fact. Figures and T didn't agree ; nor do I 



166 THECIIAINBEARER. 

like 'era any potter at seventy t'an I liket 'em at seventeen. 
Frank Malbone, now, Dus's brother, t'ere, ist a lat that takes to 
'era nat'rally, and he works t' rough a sum ast your fat'er would 
carry a battalion t' rough a ravine. Carrying chain I like ; it 
gives sufficient occupation to t'e mind ; put honesty is the great 
quality for the chainbearer. They say figures can't lie, Mor- 
taunt ; but t'is not true wit' chains ; sometimes they do lie, 
desperately." 

" Where is Mr. Francis Malbone ? I should be pleased to 
make his acquaintance." 

''Frank remainet pehint to help 'em up with their timber. 
He is a stout chap, like yourself, and can lent a hant ; while, 
poor fellow ! he has no lantlort-tignity to maintain." 

I heard a gentle sigh from Dus, and involuntarily turned my 
head ; for she was occupied directly behind my chair. As if 
ashamed of the weakness, the spirited girl colored, and for the 
first time in my life I heard her voice, the two instances of the 
Indian songs excepted. I say heard her voice ; for it was an 
event to record. A pleasant voice, in either sex, is a most 
pleasant gift from nature. But the sweet tones of Ursula Mal- 
bone were all that the most fastidious ear could have desired ; 
being full, rich, melodious, yet on the precise key that best 
satisfies the taste, bringing with it assurances of a feminine 
disposition and regulated habits. I detest a shrill, high-keyed 
female voice, more than that of a bawling man, while one ft.els 
a contempt for those who mumble their words in order to ap- 
pear to possess a refinement that the very act itself contradicts. 
Plain, direct, but regulated utterance, is indispensable to a man 
or woman of the world ; any thing else rendering him or her 
mean or affected. 

"I was in hopes," said Dus, ''that evil-disposed frame was 
up and secured, and that I should see Frank in a minute or two. 
I was surprised to see you working so stoutly for the Presbyte- 
rians, uncle Chainbearer!" 

" I might return t'e compliment, and say I wast surpriset to 
Bee you doing the same t'ing, Miss Dus ! Pcside^, the tcnoini 



THE CHAINBEARER. 167 

nation is Congregational, and not Prespyterian ; and one is apout 
as much to your taste as t'e ot'er." 

'' The little I did was for you, and Frank, and— Mr. Little- 
page, with all the rest who stood under the frame." 

*' I am sure. Miss Ursula," I now put in, " we all ought, and 
I trust we all do feel truly grateful for your timely aid. Had 
that timber come down, many of us must have been killed, and 
more maimed." 

"It was not a very feminine exploit," answered the girl, 
smiling, as I thought, a little bitterly. "But one gets accus- 
tomed to being useful in the woods." 

"Do you dislike living in the forest, then?" 1 ventured to 
ask. 

"Certainly not. I like living anywhere that keeps me near 
uncle Chainbear'er, and Frank. They are all to me, now my 
excellent protectress and adviser is no more ; and their home 
is my home, their pleasure my pleasure, their happiness 
mine." 

This might have been said in a way to render it suspicious 
and sentimental ; but it was not. On the contrary, it was im- 
pulsive, and came from the heart. I saw by the gratified look 
of Andries that he understood his niece, and was fully aware 
how much he might rely on the truthful character of the speaker. 
As for the girl herself, the moment she had given utterance to 
what she felt, she shrunk back, like one abashed at having laid 
bare feelings that ought to have been kept in the privacy of her 
own bosom. Unwilling to distress her, I turned the conversa- 
tion in a way to leave her to herself. 

"Mr. Newcome seems a skilful manager of the multitude," 
T remarked. "He contrived very dexterously to give to the 
twenty-six Congregationalists he had with him, the air of being 
a majority of the whole assembly ; while iix truth, they were 
barely a third of those present." 

"Let Jason Newcome alone for t'at!" exclaimed Andries. 
He understants mankint, he says, and sartainly he hast a way 
of marching and countermarching just where he pleases wit' 



108 THE CIIAINBEAllER. 

t'ese people, makiii' 'em t'ink t'e whole time t'ey are doing just 
what t'ey want to do. It ist an art, major — it ist an art !" 

" I sliould think it must be, and one worth possessing; if, 
indeed, it can be exercised with credit." 

*' Ay, t'ere's the rub ! Exerciset it is; but as for t'e credit, 
Vat I will not answer for. It sometimes makes me angry, and 
sometimes it makes me laugh, when I look on, and see t'e 
manner in which Jason makes t'e people rule t'emselves, and 
how he wheels 'em apout, and faces 'em, and t'rows them into 
line, and out of line, at t'eir own wort of commant! His 
Excellency coult hartly do more wit' us, a'ter t'e Baron* had 
given us his drill." 

*' There must be some talent necessary, in order to possess 
so much influence over one's fellow-creatures." 

"It is a talent you woult be ashamed to exercise, Mortaunt 
Littlepage, t'ough you hat it in cart loats. No man can use such 
talent wit' out peginning wit' lying and deceifing ; and you must 
be greatly changet, major, if you are the lie't of your class, in 
such a school." 

*' I am sorry to see, Chainbearer, that you have no better 
opinion of my agent ; I must look into the matter a little, when 
this is the case." 

"You wilt fint him law-honest enough ; for he swears py t'e 
law, and lifs py t'e law. No fear for your tollars, poy ; t'ey pe 
all safe, unless, inteet, t'ey haf all vanishet in t'e law." 

As Andries was getting more and more Dutch, I knew he 
was growing more and more warm, and I thought it might be 
well to defer the necessary inquiries to a cooler moment. This 
peculiarity I have often observed in most of those who speak 
English imperfectly, or with the accent of some other tongue. 
They fall back, as respects language, to that nearest to nature, 
at those moments when natural feeling is asserting its power 
over them the least equivocally. 

* This allusion is evidently to a German officer, who introduced the Prussian drill 
Into the American army, Baron Steuben — or Stuyhen, as I think he must have been 
sailed in Germany — Steuden, as he is universally termed in this country.— Editob. 



THE CIIAINBEARER. 169 

I now began to question tlic Chainbearer concerning the con- 
dition in which he found the Nest-house and farm, over which 
I had given him full authority, when he came to the place, by a 
special letter to the agent. The people in possession were of 
very humble pretensions, and had been content to occupy the 
kitchen and servants' rooms ever since my grandfather's death, 
as indeed, they had done long before that event. It was owing 
to this moderation, as well as to their perfect honesty, that I 
found nothing embezzled, and most of the articles in good con- 
dition. As for the farm, it had flourished, on the '' let alone" 
principle. The orchards had grown, as a matter of course; 
and if the fields had not been improved by judicious culture, 
neither had they been exhausted by covetous croppings. In 
these particulars, there was nothing of which to complain. 
Things might have been better, Andries thought ; but he also 
thought it was exceedingly fortunate they were no worse. While 
we were conversing on this theme, Dus moved about the room 
silently, but with collected activity, having arranged the tea- 
table wiMi her own hands. When invited to take our seats at 
it — every body drew near to a tea-table in that day, unless when 
there was too large a party to be accommodated — I was sur- 
prised to find every thing so perfectly neat, and some things 
rich. The plates, knives, etc., were of good quality, but the 
tray was actually garnished with a set of old-fashioned silver, 
such as was made when tea was first used, of small size, but 
very highly chased. The handle of the spoons represented the 
stem of the tea-plant, and there was a crest on each of them ; 
while a full coat of arms was engraved on the difierent vessels 
of the service, which wer^, four in all. I looked at the crest, 
in a vague, but surprised expectation of finding my own. It 
was entirely new to me. Taking the crcara-jug in my hand, 
I could recall no arms rcsemblin<x those that were ens:raved 
on it. 

"I was surprised to find this plate here," I observed; "for, 
though my grandfather possessed a great deal of it, for one of 
liis means, I did not think he had enough to be as prodio-al of 
8 



I'iO THE CH AIXBE ARE li. 

it as leaving it here would infer. This is family plate, too, but 
those arms are neither Mordaunt nor Littlepage. May I ask to 
whom they do belong ?" 

"The Malpones," ansAvered the Chainbcarer. "T'e t'ings 
are t'e property of Diis." 

" And you may add, uncle Chainbearer, that they are all 
her property" — added the girl, quickly. 

** I feel much honored in being permitted to use them, Miss 
Ursula," I remarked ; *' for a very pretty set they make." 

" Necessity, and not vanity, has brought them out to-day. 
I broke the only teapot of yours there was in the house this 
morning, and was in hopes Frank would have brought up one 
from the store to supply its place, before it would be wanted ; 
but he does not come. As for spoons, I can find none belong- 
ing to the house, and we use these constantly. As the teapot 
w^as indispensable, I thought I might as well display all my 
wealth at once. But this is the first time the things have been 
used in many, many years!" 

There was a plaintive melody in Dus's voice, spite of her de- 
sire and efibrt to speak with unconcern, that I found exceedingly 
touching. While few of us enter into the exultation of success- 
ful vulgarity, as it rejoices in its too often random prosperity, it 
is in nature to sympathize with a downward progress, and with 
the sentiments it leaves, when it is connected with the fates of 
the innocent, the virtuous, and the educated. That set of silver 
was all that remained to Ursula Malbone of a physical charac- 
ter, and which marked the former condition of her family ; and 
doubtless she cherished it with no low feeling of morbid pride, 
but as a melancholy monument of a condition to which all her 
opinions, tastes and early habits constantly reminded her she 
properly belonged. In this last point of view, the sentiment 
was as respectable, and as much entitled to reverence, as in the 
other case it would have been unworthy, and meriting contempt. 

There is a great deal of low misconception, as well as a good 
deal of cant, beginning to prevail among us, on the subject of 
the qualities that mark a gentleman, or a lady. The day has 



THE CIIAINBEARER. 1*71 

gone by, and I trust forever, when the mere accidents of birth 
are to govern such a claim ; though the accidents of birth are 
very apt to supply the qualities that may really form the caste. For 
my own part, I believe in the exaggerations of neither of the 
two extremes that so stubbornly maintain their theories on this 
subject ; or, that a gentleman may not be formed exclusively 
by birth on the one hand, and that the severe morality of the 
Bible on the other is by no means indispensable to the charac- 
ter. A man may be a very perfect gentleman, though by no 
means a perfect man, or a Christian ; and he may be a very 
good Christian, and very little of a gentleman. It is true, there 
is a connection in manners, as a result, between the Christian 
and the gentleman ; but it is in the result, and not in the 
motive. That Christianity has little necessary connection with 
the character of a gentleman, may be seen in the fact that the 
dogmas of the first teach us to turn another cheek to him who 
smites ; while the promptings of the gentleman are — not to wipe 
out the indignity in the blood of the offender, but — to show 
that rather than submit to it, he is ready to risk his own life.* 
But, I repeat, there is no necessary connection between the 
Christian and the gentleman, though the last who is the first 
attains the highest condition of humanity. Christians, under 
the influence of their educations and habits, often do things 
that the code of the gentleman rejects ; while it is certain that 
gentlemen constantly commit unequivocal sins. The morality 
of the gentleman repudiates meannesses and low vices, rather 
than it rigidly respects the laws of God ; while the morality of 
the Christian is unavoidably raised or depressed by the influence 

* Mr. Mordaunt Littlepagc would seem to have got hold of the only plausible pallia- 
tive for a custom that originated in those times when abuses could only be corrected 
by the strong arm ; and which, in our own days, is degenerating into the merest sys- 
tem of chicanery and trick. The duellist who, in his " practice," gets to be " certain 
death to a shingle" and then misses his man, instead of illustrating his chivalry, 
merely lets the world into the secret that his nerves are not equal to his drill 1 There 
was something as respectable as any thing can be in connection with a custom so 
silly, in the conduct of the Englishman who called out to his adversary, a near-sighted 
man, " that if he Tished to shoot at him^ he must turn his pistol in another direction. 
—Editor. 



172 THE C H A I N B E A R E R . 

of the received opinions of his social caste. I am not main- 
taining that "the ten commandments were not given for the 
obedience of people of quality," for their obligations are univer- 
sal ; but, simply, that the qualities of a gentleman are the best 
qualities of man unaided by God, while the graces of the Chris- 
tian come directly from his mercy. 

Nevertheless, there is that in the true character of a gentle- 
man that is very much to be respected. In addition to the 
great indispensables of tastes, manners and opinions, based on 
intelligence and cultivation, and all those liberal qualities that 
mark his caste, he cannot and does not stoop to meannesses of 
any sort. He is truthful out of self-respect, and not in obedi- 
ence to the will of God ; free with his money, because liberali- 
ty is an essential feature of his habits, and not in imitation of 
the self-sacrifice of Christ; superior to scandal and the vices 
of the busybody, inasmuch as they are low and impair his 
pride of character, rather than because he has been commanded 
not to bear false witness against his neighbor. It is a great 
mistake to confound these two characters, one of which is a 
mere human embellishment of the ways of a wicked world, 
while the other draws near to the great end of human existence. 
The last is a character I revere ; v/hile I am willing to confess 
that I never meet with the first without feeling how vacant and 
repulsive society would become without it ; unless, indeed, the 
vacuum could be filled by the great substance, of which, after 
all, the gentleman is but the shadow. 

Ursula Malbone lost nothing in my respect by betraying the 
emotion she did, while thus speaking of this relic of old family 
plate. I was glad to find, however, that she could retain it ; 
for, though dressed in no degree in a style unbecoming hei 
homely position as her uncle's housekeeper, there were a neat- 
ness and taste in her attire that are not often seen in remote 
parts of this country. On this subject, the reader will indulge 
my weaknesses a little, if I pause to say a word. Ursula had 
neither preserved in her dress the style of one of her sex and 
condition in the world, nor yet entirely adopted that common 



THE C II A I N B E A R E R . 173 

to girls of tlic class to wliicli slic now seemingly belonged. It 
struck me that some of those former garments that were the 
simplest in fashion, and the most appropriate in material, had 
been especially arranged for present use ; and sweetly becoming 
were they, to one of her style of countenance and perfection of 
form. In that day, as every one knows, the different classes 
of society — and, kingdom or republic, classes do, and ever ivill 
exist in this country, as an incident of civilization ; a truth 
every one can see as respects those heloiOy though his vision 
may be less perfect as respects those above him — but every one 
knows that great distinctions in dress existed, as between 
classes, all over the Christian world, at the close of the Ameri- 
can war, that are fast disappearing, or have altogether disap- 
peared. Now, Ursula had preserved just enough of the pecu- 
liar attire of her own class, to let one understand that she, in 
truth, belonged to it, without rendering the distinction obtru- 
sive. Indeed, the very character of that which she did pre- 
serve, sufficiently told the story of her origin, since it was a 
subdued, rather than an exaggerated imitation of that to which 
she had been accustomed, as would have been the case with a 
mere copyist. I can only add, that the effect was to render her 
sufficiently charming. 

"Taste t'ese cakes," said old Andries, who, without the 
slightest design, did love to exhibit the various merits of his 
niece — " Dus mate t'em, and I'll enfxafje Matam Washington 
herself couldn't make pleasanter !" 

*' If Mrs. Washington was ever thus employed," I answered, 
" she might turn pale with envy here. Better cakes of the sort 
I never ate." 

" ' Of the sort' is well added, Mr. Littlepage," the girl quietly 
obseiTcd ; my protectress and friend made me rather skilful in 
this way, but the ingredients are not to be had here as they 
were in her family." 

*' Which being a boarding-school for young ladies, was doubt- 
less better supplied than common with the materials and knowl- 
edge necessary for good cakes." 



174 THE CIIAINBEARER. 

Dus laiiglied, and it startled me, so full of a m\d but subdued 
melody did that laugh seem to be. 

** Young ladies have many foibles imputed to tbcm, of which 
they are altogether innocent," was her answer. Cakes were 
almost forbidden fruit in the school, and we were taught to 
make them in pity to the palates of the men." 

"Your future Imspants, gal," cried the Chainbearer, rising 
to quit the room. 

** Our fathers, brothers, and uncles,^'' returned his niece, lay- 
ing an emphasis on the last word. 

"I believe, Miss Ursula," I resumed, as soon as Andrics had 
left us alone, " that I have been let behind the curtain as re- 
spects your late school, having an acquaintance of a somewhat 
particular nature, with one of your old schoolfellows." 

My companion did not answer, but she fastened those fasci- 
nating blue eyes of hers on me, in a way that asked a hundred 
questions in a moment. I could not but see that they were 
suffused with tears ; allusions to her school often producing that 
effect. 

" I mean Miss Priscilla Bayard, who would seem to be, or 
to have been, a very good friend of yours," I added, observing 
that my companion was not disposed to say any thing. 

*'Pris. Bayard!" Ursula now suffered to escape her, in her 
surprise — "and she an acquaintance of a somewhat particular 
nature !" 

"My language has been incautious; not to say that of a 
coxcomb. Certainly, I am not authorized to say more than 
that ovLT families are very intimate, and that there are some par- 
ticular reasons for that intimacy. I beg you to read only as I 
have corrected the error." 

" I do not see that the correction changes things much ; and 
you will let me say I am grieved, sadly grieved, to learn so 
much." 

This was odd ! That Dus really meant what she said, was 
plain enough by a face that had actually lost nearly all of its 
color, and which expressed an emotion that was most extraor- 



THE CHAIN BEARER. lV5 

dinary. Shall I own what a miserably conceited coxcomb I 
was for a single moment ? The truth must be said, and I will 
confess it. Tlie thought that crossed my mind was this : — ^Ur- 
sula Malbone was pained at the idea that the only man whom 
she had seen for a year, and who could, by possibility, make 
any impression on one of her education and tastes, was be- 
trothed to another! Under ordinary circumstances, this pre- 
cocious preference might have caused me to revolt at its exhi- 
bition ; but there was far too much of nature in all of Dus's 
emotions, acts and language, to produce any other impression 
on me than that of intense interest, I have always dated the 
powerful hold that this girl so soon obtained on my heart, to 
the tumult of feeling awakened in me at that singular moment. 
Love at first sight may be ridiculous, but it is sometimes true. 
That a passion may be aroused by a glance, or a smile, or any 
other of those secret means of conveying sympathy with which 
nature has supplied us, I fully believe; though its duration 
must depend on qualities of a higher and more permanent in- 
fluence. It is the imagination that is first excited ; the heart 
coming in for its share by later and less perceptible degrees. 

My delusion, however, did not last long. Whether Ursula 
Malbone was conscious of the misconstruction to which she 
was liable, I cannot say ; but I rather think not, as she was 
much too innocent to dread evil ; or whether she saw some 
other necessity for explaining herself, remains a secret with me 
to this hour ; but explain she did. How judiciously this was 
done, and with how much of that female tact that taught her 
to conceal the secrets of her friend, will appear to those who 
are sufiiciently interested in the subject to pursue it. 



176 THE C H A I N B E A R E R . 



CllAPTEll Xll. 

" Hero come the luvcrs, full of joy and mirth — 
Joy, gentle friends ! joj', and fresh days of lovo 
Accompany j'our hearts I" 

Midsummer Night's Deeaje. 

" I OUGHT not to leave you in any doubts as to my meaning, 
Mr. Littlepage," resumed Ursula, after a short pause. "Pris- 
cilla Bayard is very dear to me, and is well worthy of all your 
love and admiration — " 

"Admiration, if you please, and as much as you please, Miss 
Ursula; but there is no such feeling as love, as yet certainly, 
between Miss Bayard and myself." 

The countenance of Dus brightened sensibly. Truth herself, 
she gave immediate credit to Avhat I said ; and I could not but 
see that she was greatly relieved from some unaccountable ap- 
prehension. Still, she smiled a little archly, and perhaps a little 
sadly, as she continued — 

'"As yet, certainly,' is very equivocal on your side, Avhen a 
young woman like Priscilla Bayard is concerned. It may at 
any moment be converted into ' 7ioiv, certainly,' with that cer- 
tainty the other way." 

*' I will not deny it. Miss Bayard is a channing creature — 
yet, I do not know how it is — there seems to be a fate in these 
things. The peculiar relation to which I alluded, and alluded 
so awkwardly, is nothing more than the engagement of my 
yoinigest sister to her brother. There is no secret in that en- 
gagement, so I shall not affect to conceal it." 

" And it is just such an engagement as might lead to one 
between yourself and Priscilla!" exclaimed Dus, certainly not 
without alarm. 



THE CHAINBEARER. 1*77 

"It might, or it might not, as the parties happen to view 
such things. With certain temperaments it might prove an in- 
ducement ; while with others it would not." 

'' My interest in the subject," continued Bus, '* proceeds 
altogether from the knowledge I have that another has sought 
Miss Bayard ; and I will own with my hearty good wishes for 
his success. You struct me as a most formidable rival; nor do 
you seem any the less so, now I know that your families are to 
be connected." 

** Have no fears on my account, for I am as heart-whole as 
the day I first saw the lady." 

A flash of intelligence — a most meaning flash it was — 
gleamed on the handsome face of my companion ; and it was 
followed by a mournful, though I still thought not an entirely 
dissatisfied smile. 

"These are matters about which one had better not say 
much," Dus added, after a pause. *' My sex has its * peculiar 
rights,' and no woman should disregard them. You have 
been fortunate in finding all your tenants collected together, 
Mr. Littlepage, in a way to let you see them at a single glance." 

" I was fortunate in one sense, and a most delightful intro- 
duction I had to the settlement — such an introduction as I would 
travel another hundred miles to have repeated." 

"Are you, then, so fond of raisings ? — or, do you really love 
excitement to such a degree as to wish to get under a trap, like 
one of the poor rabbits my uncle sometimes takes ?" 

" I am not thinking of the raising, or of the frame ; although 
your courage and presence of mind might well indelibly impress 
both on ray mind" — Dus looked down, and the coloi; mounted 
to her temples — " but, I was thinking of a certain song, an In- 
dian song, sung to Scotch music, that I heard a few miles from 
the clearings, and which was my real introduction to the pleas- 
ant things one may both hear and see, in this retired part of 
the world." 

" "V^Tiich is not so retired after all, that flattery cannot pene- 
trate it, I find. It is pleasant to hear one's songs extolled, even 



178 THE CHAIN BEARER. 

though they may be Indian ; but, it is not half so pleasant as 
to hear tidings of Priscilla Bayard. If you wish truly to charm 
mv ear, talk of her /" 

" The attachment seems mutual, for I can assure you Miss 
Bayard manifested just the same interest in you." 

" In me ! Priscilla then remembers a poor creature like me, 
in her banishment from the world ! Perhaps she remembers 
rae so much the more, because I am banished. I hope she 
does not, cannot think I regi'et my condition — thatj I could 
hardly forgive her." 

*' I rather think she does not ; I know she gives you credit 
for more than common excellencies." 

"It is strange that Priscilla Bayard should speak of me to 
you ! I have been a little unguarded myself, Mr. Littlepage, 
and have said so much, that I begin to feel the necessity of 
saying something more. There is some excuse for my not feel- 
ing in your presence as in that of a stranger ; since uncle Chain- 
bearer has your name in his mouth at least one hundred times 
each day. Twelve different times in one hour did he speak of 
you yesterday." 

" Excellent old Andries ! It is the pride of my life that so 
honest a man loves me ; and now for the explanation I am en- 
titled to receive as his friend, by your own acknowledgment." 

Dus smiled, a little saucily I thought — but saucily or not, 
that smile made her look extremely lovely. She reflected a 
moment, like one who thinks intensely, even bending her head 
under the painful mental effort ; then she drew her form to its 
usual attitude, and spoke. 

"It is always best to be fi-ank," she said, "and it can do no 
harm, wh'ile it may do good, to be explicit with you. You 
will not forget, Mr. Littlepage, that I believe myself to be con- 
versing with my uncle's very best friend?" 

" I am too proud of the distinction to forget it, under any 
circumstances ; and least of all in your presence." 

" Well, then, I will be frank. Priscilla Bayard was, for eight 
years, my associate and closest friend. Our affection for each 



THE CHAIN BEARER. .179 

otlier commenced when we were mere cliildren, and increased 
with time and knowledge. About a year before the close of 
the war, my brother Frank, who is now here as my uncle's sur- 
veyor, found opportunities to quit his regiment, and to come to 
visit me quite frequently — indeed, his company was sent to 
Albany, where he could see me as often as he desired. To see 
me, was to see Priscilla ; for we were inseparable ; and to see 
Priscilla was, for poor Frank at least, to love her. He made 
me his confidant, and my alarm was nothing but natural con- 
cern lest he might have a rival as formidable as you." 

A flood of light was let in upon me by this brief expla- 
nation, though I could not but wonder at the simplicity, or 
strength of character, that induced so strange a confidence. 
When I got to know Dus better, the whole became clear enough; 
but, at the moment, I was a little surprised. 

"Be at ease on my account, Miss Malbone " 

« Why not call me Dus at once ? You will do it in a week, 
like every one else here ; and it is better to begin our acquaint- 
ance as I am sure it will end. Uncle Chainbearer calls me 
Dus ; Frank calls me Dus ; most of your settlers call me Dus, 
to my very face ; and even our blacks call me Miss Dus. You 
cannot wish to be singular." 

** I will gladly venture so far as to call you Ursula; but Dus 
does not please me," 

" No ! — I have become so accustomed to be called Dus by 
all my friends, that it sounds distant to be called by any other 
name. Do you not think Dus a pretty diminutive V 

"I did not, most certainly; though all these things depend 
on the associations. Dus Malbone sounded sweetly enough in 
Priscilla Bayard's mouth ; but I fear it will not be so pleasant 
in mine." 

"Do as you please — but do not call me Miss Ursula, or 3fiss 
Malbone. It would have displeased me once, not to have been 
60 addressed by any man ; but it has an air of mockery, no\T 
that I know myself to be only the companion and housekeeper 
of a poor chainbearer," 



180 THE C II A I N B E A R E R . 

" And yet, tlie owner of that silver, the lady I see seated at 
this table, in this room, is not so very inappropriately addressed 
as Miss Ursula !" 

" You know the history of the silver, and the table and room 
arc your own. No — Mr. Littlcpage, we are poor — very, very 
poor — uncle Chainbearer, Frank and I — all alike, have noth- 
ing." 

This was not said despairingly, but with a sincerity that I 
found exceedingly touching. 

"Frank, at least, should have something" — I answered. 
*' You tell me he was in the army ?" 

" He was a captain at the last, but what did he receive for 
that ? We do not complain of the country, any of us ; neither 
my uncle, my brother, nor myself; for we know it is poor, 
like ourselves, and that its poverty even is like our own, that 
of persons reduced. I was long a charge on my friends, and 
there have been debts to pay. Could I have known it, such a 
thing should not have happened. Now I can only repay those 
who have discharged these obligations by coming into the 
wilderness with them. It is a terrible thing for a woman to be 
in debt." 

" But you have remained in this house ; you surely have not 
been m the hut, at Mooseridge !" 

" I have gone wherever uncle Chainbearer lias gone, and 
shall go with him, so long as we both live. Nothing shall ever 
separate us again. His years demand this, and gratitude is 
added to my love. Frank might possibly do better than work 
for the little he receives ; but he will not quit us. The poor 
love each other intensely !" 

"But I have desired your uncle to use this house, and for 
your sake I should think he would accept the offer." 

"How could he, and carry chain twenty miles distant? 
We have been here, occasionally, a few days at a time ; but 
the work was to be done, and it must be done on the land 
itself." 

" Of course, you merely gave your friends the pleasure of 



THE CII AINBE A U E R. 181 

your company, and looked a little to their comforts, on their 
return from a hard day's work?" 

Dus raised her eyes to mine ; smiled ; then she looked sad, 
her under-lip quivering slightly ; after which a smile that was 
not altogether without humor succeeded. I watched these 
signs of varying feeling with an interest I cannot describe ; for 
the play of virtuous and ingenuous emotion on a lovely female 
countenance is one of the rarest sights in nature. 

"I can carry chain" — said the girl, at the close of this exhi- 
bition of feeling. 

" You can carry chain, TJi'sula — Dus, or whatever I am io 
call you — " 

*' Call me Dus — I love that name best." 
"You can carry chain, I suppose is true enough — but, you 
do not mean that you have .^" 

The face of Dus flushed ; but she looked me full in the eye, 
as she nodded her head to express an affirmative; and she 
smiled as sweetly as ever woman smiled. 
^ " For amusement — to say you have done it — in jest !" 

" To help my uncle and brother, who had not the means to 
hire a second man." 

" Good God ! Miss Malbone — Ursula — Dus — " 
*' The last is the most proper name for a Chainbcaress," 
rejoined the girl, smiling ; and actually taking my hand by an 
involuntary movement of her sympathy in the shock I so evi- 
dently felt — **But, why should you look upon that little toil 
as so shocking, when it is healthful and honest? You are 
thinking of a sister reduced to what strikes you as man's proper 
work." 

Dus relinquished my hand almost as soon as she had touched 
it ; and she did it with a slight start, as if shocked at her own 
temerity. 

*' What is man's work, and man's work, onlyy 
*'Yet woman can perform it; and, as uncle Chainbearer 
will tell you, perform it well. I had no other concern, the 
month I was at work, than the fear that my strength would not 



182 T II EC II AIN BEARER. 

enable me to do as much as my uncle and brother, and thus 
lessen the service they could render you each day. They kept 
me on the dry land, so there were no wet feet, and your woods 
are as clear of underbrush as an orchard. There is no use in 
attempting to conceal the fact, for it is known to many, and 
would have reached your ears sooner or later. Then conceal- 
ment is always painful to me, and never more so than when 
I hear you, and see you treating your hired servant as an 
equal." 

'* Miss Malbone ! — For God's sake, let me hear no more of 
this — old Andries judged rightly of me, in wishing to con- 
ceal this ; for I should never have allowed it to go on for a 
moment." 

"And in what manner could you have prevented it. Major 
Littlepage ? My uncle has taken the business of you at so much 
the day, finding surveyor and laborers — poor dear Frank ? He, 
at least, does not rank with the laborers, and as for my uncle, 
he has long had an honest pride in being the best chainbearcr 
in the country — why need his niece scruple about sharing in 
his well-earned reputation?" 

*' But you, Miss Malbone — dearest Dus — who have been so 
educated, who are born a lady, who are loved by Priscilla Bay- 
ard, the sister of Frank, arc not in your proper sphere, while 
thus occupied." 

"It is not so easy to say what is the proper sphere of a 
woman. I admit it ought to be, in general, in the domestic 
circle, and under the domestic roof; but circumstances must 
control that. We hear of wives who follow their husbands to 
the camp, and we hear of nuns who come out of their convents 
to attend the sick and wounded in hospitals. It does not 
strike me, then, as so bad in a girl who offers to aid her 
parent as I have aided mine, when the alternative was to suffer 
by want." 

"Gracious Providence ! And Andries has kept me in igno- 
rance of all this ; he knew my purse would have been his, and 
how could you have been in want in the midst of the abun- 



THE CII A I N E E ARE R. 183 

dance that reigns in tliis settlement, wliicli is only fifteen or 
twenty miles from your hut, as I know from the Chainbearer's 
letters." 

"Food is plenty, I allow, but we had no money; and when 
the question was l^etween beggary or exertion, we merely 
chose the last. My uncle did try old Killian, the black, for a 
day ; but you know how hard it is to make one of those people 
understand any thing that is a little intricate ; and then I offered 
my services. I am intelligent enough, I trust" — the girl smiled 
a little proudly as she said this — ''and you can have no notion 
how active and strong I am for light work like this, and on my 
feet, until you put me to the proof. Remember, carrying chain 
is neither chopping w^ood nor piling logs ; nor is it absolutely 
unfeminine." 

"Nor raising churches" — I answered, smiling; for it was 
not easy to resist the contagion of the girl's spirit — " at which 
business I have been an eye-witness of your dexterity. How- 
ever, there will now be an end of this. It is fortunately in my 
power to offer such a situation and such emoluments to Mr. 
Malbone, as will at once enable him to place his sister in this 
house as its mistress, and under a roof that is at least respect- 
able." 

"Bless you for that !" cried Dus, making a movement toward 
catching my hand again ; but checking it in time to render the 
deep blush that instantly suffused her face, almost unnecessary. 
" Bless you for that ! Frank is willing to do any thing that is 
honest, and capable of doing any thing that a gentleman should 
do. I am the great encumbrance on the poor fellow; for, 
could he leave me, many situations must be open to him in the 
towns. But I cannot quit my uncle, and Frank will not quit 
me. lie does not understand uncle Chainbearer." 

"Frank must be a noble fellow, and I honor him for his 
attachment to such a sister. This makes me only the more 
anxious to carry out my intentions." 

" Which are such, I hope, that there is no impropriety in hia 
sister's knowing them ?" 



184 THE CIIAINBEARER. 

This was said with such an expression of interest in the sweet, 
blue eyes, and with so little of the air of common curiosity, that 
it completely charmed me. 

" Certainly there is none," I answered, promptly enough 
even for a young man who was acting under the influence of so 
much ingenuous and strong native feeling; '* and I shall have 
great pleasure in telling you. We have long been dissatisfied 
with our agent on this estate, and I had determined to offer it 
to your uncle. The same difficulty would have to be overcome 
in this case, as there was in making him a safe surveyor — tho 
want of skill in figures ; now this difficulty will not exist in 
the instance of your brother; and the whole family, Chain- 
bearer as well as the rest, will be benefited by giving the situa- 
tion to Frank." 

*' You call him Frank !" cried Dus, laughing, and evidently 
delighted with what she heard. "That is a good omen ; but 
if you raise me to the station of an agent's sister, I do not know 
but I shall insist on being called Ursula, at least, if not Miss 
Ursula." 

I scarce knew what to make of this girl ; there was so much 
of gayety, and even fun, blended with a mine of as deep feeling 
as I ever saw throwing up its signs to the human countenance. 
Her brother's prospects had made her even gay ; though she 
still looked as if anxious to hear more. 

*' You may claim which you please, for Frank shall have his 
name put into the new power of attorney within the hour. Mr. 
Newcome has had a hint, by letter, of what is to come, and 
professes great happiness in getting rid of a vast deal of unre- 
quited trouble." 

" I am afraid there is little emolument, if he is glad to be rid 
of the office." 

*'I do not say he is glad ; I only say he 2^^of esses to be so. 
These are different things with certain persons. As for the 
emolument, it will not be much certainly ; though it will be 
enough to prevent Frank's sister from carrying chain, and leave 
her to exercise her talents and industry in their proper sphere. 



THE C II A I N B E A R E R . 



185 



In the first place, every lease on tlie estate is to be renewed ; 
and there being a hundred, and the tenant bearing the expense, 
it will at once put a considerable sum at your brother's disposi- 
tion. I cannot say that the annual commissions will amount 
to a very great deal, though they will exceed a hundred a year 
by the terms on which the lands will be relet. The use of 
this house and farm, however, I did intend to offer to your 
uncle ; and, for the same reason, I shall offer them to Frank." 

'^"With this house and farm we shall be rich!" exclaimed 
Bus, clasping her hands in delight. " I can gather a school of 
the better class of girls, and no one will be useless— no one idle. 
If I teach your tenants' daughters some of the ideas of their sex 
and station, Mr. Littlepage, you will reap the benefit in the 
end. That will be some slight return for all your kindness." 

'' I wish all of your sex, and of the proper age, who are con- 
nected with me, no better instructress. Teach them your own 
warmth of heart, your own devotedness of feeling, your own 
truth, and your own frankness, and I will come and dwell on 
my own estate, as the spot nearest to paradise." 

Dus looked a little alarmed, I thought, as if she feared she 
might have uttered too much ; or, perhaps, that / was uttering 
too much. She rose, thanked me hurriedly, but in a very lady- 
like manner, and set about removing the breakfast ser^^ice, with 
as much diligence as if she had been a mere menial. 

Such was my very first conversation with Ursula Malbone ; 
her, with whom I have since held so many, and those that have 
been very different ! When I rose to seek the Chainbearer, it 
was with a feeling of interest in my late companion that was as 
strong as it was sudden. I shall not deny that her beauty had 
its influence — it would be unnatural that it should not— but it 
was less her exceeding beauty, and Ursula Malbone would have 
passed for one of the fairest of her sex— but it was less her 
beauty that attracted me than her directness, truth, and ingen- 
uousness, so closely blended as all were with the feelings and 
delicacy of her sex. She had certainly done things which, had 
I merely heard of them, would have struck me unpleasantly, as 



186 THE CHAIN BEARER. 

even bold and forward, and wliich may now so strike tlie reader* 
but this would be doing Dus injustice. No act, no word of 
hers, not even the taking of my hand, seemed to me, at the 
time, as in the least forward ; the whole movement being so 
completely qualified by that intensity of feeling which caused 
her to think only of her brother. Nature and circumstances 
had combined to make her precisely the character she was ; and 
I will confess I did not wish her to be, in a single particular, 
different from what I found her. 

Talk of Pris. Bayard in comparison with Ursula Malbone ; 
Both had beauty, it is true, though the last was far the hand- 
somest ; both had delicacy, and sentiment, and virtue, and all 
that pertains to a well-educated young woman, if you will ; but 
Dus had a character of her own, and principles, and an energy, 
and a decision, that made her the girl of ten thousand. I do not 
think I could be said to be actually in love when I left that 
room, for I do not wish to appear so very easy to receive im- 
pressions as all that would come to ; but I will own no female 
had ever before interested me a tenth part as much, though I 
had known, and possibly admired her, a twelvemonth. 

In the court I found Andries measuring his chains. This he 
did periodically ; and it was as conscientiously as if he were 
weighing gold. The old man manifested no consciousness of 
the length of the tete-a-tete I had held with his niece ; but on 
the contrary, the first words he uttered were to an effect that 
proved he fancied I had been alone. 

" I peg your parton, lat," he said, holding his measuring 
rod in his mouth while he spoke. ** I peg your parton, put 
this is very necessary work. I do not wish to haf any of your 
Yankee settlers crying out hereafter against the Chainpearer's 
surveys. Let 'em come a huntret or a t'ousant years hence, if 
t'ey will, and measure t'e lant ; I want olt Andries' survey to 
stant." 

" The variation of the compass will make some difference in 
the two surveys, my good friend, unless the surveyors are better 
than one commonly finds." 



THE CIIAINBEARER. 187 

The old man dropped liis rod and his chain, and looked de- 
Bpondingly at me. 

<' True," he said, with emphasis. '* You haf hit t'e nail on 
t'e heat, Mortaunt — t'at fariation is t'e fery tefRl to get along 
wit' ! I haf triet it t'is-a-way, and I haf triet it t'at-a-way, and 
never coult I make heat or tail of it ! I can see no goot of a 
fariation at all." 

" Wliat does your pretty assistant Dus think of it ? Dus, the 
pretty Chainbearer ? You will lose your old, hard-earned ap- 
pellation, which will be borne off by Miss Malbone." 

<'T'en Dus has peen telling you all apout it! A woman 
never can keep a secret. No, natur' hast mate 'cm talkatif, 
and t'e parrot will chatter." 

"A woman likes variation, notwithstanding — did you con- 
sult Dus on that difficulty ?" 

" No, no, poy ; I sait not'ing to Dus, ant I am sorry she 
has said any t'ing to you apout t'is little matter of t'e chain. 
It was sorely against my will, Mortaunt, t'at t'e gal ever carriet 
it a rot ; and was it to do over ag'in, she shoult not carry it 
a rot — yet it woult have tone your heart goot to see how 
prettily she did her work ; and how quick she wast, and how 
true ; and how accurate she put down the marker ; and how sar- 
tain was her eye. Natur' made t'at fery gal for a chainpearer I" 
"And a chainbearer she has been, and a chainbearer she 
ever will be, until she throws her chains on some poor fellow, 
and binds him down for life. Andries, you have an angel with 
you here, and not a woman." 

Most men in the situation of the Chainbearer might have 
been alarmed at hearing such language coming from a young 
man, and under all the circumstances of the case. But Andries 
Coejemans never had any distrust of mortal who possessed his 
ordinary confidence ; and I question if he ever entertained a 
doubt about myself on any point, the result of his own, rather 
than of my character. Instead of manifesting uneasiness or 
displeasure, he turned to me, his whole countenance illuminated 
with the affection he felt for his niece, and said — 



188 THE CHAIN BEARER. 

"T'e gal ist an excellent gal, Mortaunt ; a capital creature! 
It woult haf tone your heart goot, I tell you, to see her carry 
chain ! Your pocket is none t'e worse for t'e mont' she worked, 
t'ough I would not haf you t'ink I charget for her ast a man — 
no — she is town at only half-price, woman's work peing only 
woman's work; yet I do pelieve, on my conscience, t'at we 
went over more grount in t'at mont', fan we could haf tone wit' 
any man t'at wast to pe hiret in t'is part of t'e worlt — I do, 
indeet!" 

How strange all this sounded to me ! Charged for work done 
by Ursula Malbone, and charged at half-price! We are the 
creatures of convention, and the slaves of opinions that come 
we know not whence. I had got the notions of my caste, ob- 
tained in the silent, insinuating manner in which all our charac- 
ters are formed ; and nothing short of absolute want could have 
induced me to accept pecuniary compensation from an individ- 
ual for any personal service rendered. I had no profession, 
and it did not comport with our usages for a gentleman to re- 
ceive money for personal service out of the line of a profession ; 
an arbitrary rule, but one to which most of us submit with 
implicit obedience. The idea that Dus had been paid by my- 
self for positive toil, therefore, was extremely repugnant to me ; 
and it was only after reflection that I came to view the whole 
affair as I ought, and to pass to the credit of the noble-minded 
girl, and this without any drawback, an act that did her so 
much honor. I wish to represent myself as no better or no 
wiser, or more rational than I was ; and, I fancy few young 
men of my age and habits would hear with much delight, at 
first, that the girl he himself felt impelled to love had been 
thus employed; while on the other hand, few would fail to 
arrive at the same conclusions, on reflection, as those T reached 
myself. 

The discourse with Andries Coejemans was interrupted by 
the sudden entrance of Frank Malbone into the court. This was 
my first meeting with my young surveyor, and the Chainbearer 
introduced us to each other in his usual hearty and frank 



THE CHAIN BEARER. 189 

manner. In a minute we were acquainted ; the old man in- 
quiring as to tlie success of the settlers in getting up their 
" meetin'-us." 

** I staid until they had begun to place the rafters," answered 
young Malbone, cheerfully, " and then I left them. The fes- 
tivities are to end with a ball, T hear ; but I was too anxious to 
learn how my sister reached home — I ought to say reached 
the 'Nest — to remain. We have little other home now, Mr. 
Littlepage, than the hut in the woods, and the roof your hospi- 
tality offers." 

''Brother soldiers, sir, and brother soldiers in such a cause, 
ought to have no more scruples about accepting such hospitali- 
ties, as you call them, than in offering them. I am glad, how- 
ever, that you have adverted to the subject, inasmuch as it 
opens the way to a proposition I have intended to mate ; which, 
if accepted, will make me your guest, and which may as well 
be made now as a week later." 

Both Andries and Frank looked surprised ; but I led them to 
a bench on the open side of the court, and invited them to be 
seated, while I explained myself. It may be well to say a 
word of that seat, in passing. It stood on the verge of a low 
cliff of rocks, on the side of the court which had been defended 
by palisades, when the French held the Canadas, and the re- 
mains of which were still to be seen. Here, as I was told 
before we left the spot, Dus, my pretty chainbearer, with a 
woman's instinct for the graceful and the beautiful, had erected 
an arbor, principally with her own hands, planted one of the 
swift-growing vines of our climate, and caused a seat to be 
placed within. The spot commanded a pleasing view of a 
wide expanse of meadows, and of a distant hill-side, that still 
lay in the virgin forest. Andries told me that his niece had 
passed much of her leisure time in that arbor, since the growth 
of the plant, with the advance of the season, had brought the 
seat into the shade. 

Placing myself between the Chainbearer and Malbone, I 
communicated the intention I had formed of makino; the latter 



190 THE CIIAINBEARER. 

my agent. As an inducement to accept the situation, I oflfered 
the use of the Nest-house and Nest-farm, reserving to myself 
the room or two that had been my grandfather's, and that only 
at the times of my annual visits to the property. As the farm 
was large, and of an excellent quality of land, it would abund- 
antly supply the wants of a family of modest habits, and even 
admit of sales to produce the means of purchasing such articles 
of foreign growth as might be necessary. In a word, I laid 
before the listeners the whole of my plan, which was a good 
deal enlarged by a secret wish to render Ursula comfortable, 
without saying any thing about the motive. 

The reader is not to suppose I was exhibiting any extraor- 
dinary liberality in doing that which I have related. It must 
not be forgotten that land was a drug in the state of New York 
in the year 1'784, as it is to-day on the Miami, Ohio, Mississip- 
pi, and other inland streams. The proprietors thought but 
little of their possessions as the means of present support, but 
rather maintained their settlements than their settlements main- 
tained them ; looking forward to another age, and to their pos- 
terity, for the rewards of all their trouble and investments.* 

It is scarcely necessary to say my proposals were gladly 
accepted. Old Andries squeezed my hand, and I understood 
the pressure as fully as if he had spoken with the eloquence of 
Patrick Henry. Frank Malbone was touched ; and all parties 
were pei'fectly satisfied. The surveyor had his field-inkstand 
with him, as a matter of course, and I had the power-of-attor- 
ney in my pocket ready for the insertion of the Chainbearer's 
name, would he accept the office of agent. That of Malbone 
was written in its stead ; I signed ; Andries witnessed ; and we 

* The Manor of Eensselaerwick virtually extends forty-eight miles east and west, 
and twenty -four north and south. It is situated In the very heart of New York, with 
three incorporated cities within its limits, built, in part, on small, older grants. 
Albanv is a town of near, if not of quite 40,000 souls; and Troy must now contain 
near 28,000. Yet, the late patroon, in the last conversation he ever held with tho 
writer, only a few months before he died, stated that Ms grandfather was the first 
proprietor who ever reaped any material advantage from the estate, and his father the 
first who received any income of considerable amount. The horne property, farma 
and millij, furnished the income of the family for more than a century.— Editor, 



THE C II A I N B E A K E K . 



191 



left the seat together; Frank Malbonc, in eft'ect, temporarily 
master of the house in which we were, and his charming sister, 
as a necessary consequence, its mistress. It was a delicious 
moment to me, when I saw Dus throw herself into her brother's 
arms, and weep on his bosom, as he communicated to her the 
joyful intelligence. 




102 TUE CHAIN BEARER. 



CHAPTER XIII. 

"A coinibitable doctrine, and nuich may be said of it. "Where lies your text?" 

Twelfth Night; ob What You Will. 

A MONTH glided swiftly by. During that interval, Frank 
Malbone was fully installed, and Andries consented to suspend 
operations with his chain, until this necessary work was com- 
pleted. Work it was ; for every lease granted by my grand- 
father having run out, the tenants had remained on their farms 
by sufferance, or as occupants at will, holding from year to year 
under parole agreements made with Mr. Newcome, who had 
authority to go that far, but no farther. 

It was seldom that a landlord, in that day, as I have already 
said, got any income from his lands during the first few years 
of their occupation. The great thing was to induce settlers to 
come ; for, where there was so much competition, sacrifices had 
to be made in order to effect this preliminary object. In com- 
pliance with this policy, my grandfather had let his wild lands 
for nominal rents in nearly every instance, with here and there 
a farm of particular advantages excepted ; and, in most cases, 
the settler had enjoyed the use of the farm for several years, 
for no rent at all. He paid the taxes, which were merely 
nominal, and principally to support objects that were useful 
to the immediate neio;hborhood ; such as the construction of 
roads, bridges, pounds, with other similar works, and the ad- 
ministration of justice. At the expiration of this period of 
non-payment of rents, a small sum per acre was agreed to be 
paid, rather than actually paid, not a dollar of which had ever 
left the settlement. The landlord w^as expected to head all 
subscriptions for every thing that w^as beneficial, or which pro- 
fessed to be beneficial to the estate ; and the few hundreds a 



THE CHAINBEARKR. 19S 

year, two or three at most, that my rent-roll actually exhibited, 
were consumed among the farms of the Nest. It was matter 
of record that not one sJlfejing had the owner of this property, 
as yet, been able to carry away with him for his own private 
purposes. It is true, it had been in his power to glean a little 
each year for such a purpose ; but it was not considered politic, 
and consequently it was not the practice of the country, in re 
gard to estates so situated and before the revolution ; though 
isolated cases to the contrary, in which the landlord was partic- 
ularly avaricious, or particularly necessitous, may have existed. 
Our New York proprietors, in that day, were seldom of the 
class that needed money. Extravagance had been little known 
to the province, and could not yet be known to the state ; con • 
sequently, few lost their property from their expenditures, 
though some did from mismanagement. The trade of " puss 
in the corner," or of shoving a man out of his property, in or- 
der to place one's self in it, was little practised previously to the 
revolution ; and the community always looked upon the intru- 
der into family property with a cold eye, unless he came into 
possession by fair purchase, and for a sufficient price. Legal 
speculations were then nearly unknown ; and he who got rich 
was expected to do so by manly exertions, openly exercised, 
and not by the dark machinations of a sinister practice of the 
law. 

In our case, not a shilling had Ave, as yet, been benefited by 
the property of Ravensnest. All that had ever been received, 
and more too, had been expended on the spot ; but a time had 
now arrived when it was just and reasonable that the farms 
should make some returns for all our care and outlays. 

Eleven thousand acres were under lease, divided among 
somewhat less than a hundred tenants. Until the first day of 
the succeeding April, these persons could hold their lands 
under the verbal contracts ; but, after that day, new leases be- 
came necessary. It is not usual for the American landlord to 
be exacting. It is out of his power, indeed, for the simple 
reason that land is so much more abundant than men; but, it 
9 



194 THE CffA'lITBE ARER. 

is not the practice of the country, a careless indulgence being 
usually the sin of the caste ; an indulgence that admits of an 
accumulation of arrears, which, when pay-day does arrive, is 
apt to bring with it ill-blood and discontent. It is an undeni- 
able truth in morals, that, whatever may be the feeling at the 
time, men are rarely grateful for a goveniment that allows their 
vices to have a free exercise. They invariably endeavor to 
throw a portion of the odium of their own misdeeds on the 
shoulders of those who should have controlled them. It is 
the same with debts; for, however much we may beg for lenity 
at the time, accumulations of interest wear a very hostile aspect 
when they present themselves in a sum-total, at a moment it is 
inconvenient to balance the account. If those who have been 
thus placed would only remember that there is a last great ac- 
count that every man must be called on to settle, arrearages 
and all, the experience of their worldly aifairs might suggest a 
lesson that would be infinitely useful. It is fortunate for us, 
without exception, that there is a Mediator to aid us in the 
task. 

The time had come when Kavensnest might be expected to 
produce something. Guided by the surveys, and our own local 
knowledge, and gi-eatly aided by the Chainbearer's experience, 
Frank Malbone and I passed one entire fortnight in classifying 
the farms ; putting the lowest into the shilling category ; others 
into the eighteen pence ; and a dozen farms or so into the two 
shillings. The result was, that we placed six thousand acres at 
a shilling a year rent ; three thousand eight hundred at eighteen 
pence the acre ; and twelve hundred acres at two shillings. The 
whole made a rental of fourteen thousand one hundred shillings, 
or a fraction more than seventeen hundred and forty-two dollars 
per annum. This sounded pretty well for the year 1784, and 
it was exclusively of the Nest farm, of Jason Newcome's mills 
and timber-land, which he had hitherto enjoyed for nothing, or 
for a mere nominal rent, and all the wild lands, 

I will confess I exulted greatly in the result of our calculations. 
Previously to that day, I had placed no dependence on Ravens- 



THE CHAINBEARER. 195 

nest for income, finding my support in the other property I had 
inherited from my grandfather. On paper, my income was 
more than doubled, for I received then only some eleven hun- 
dred a year (I speak of dollars, not pounds) from my other 
property. It is true, the last included a great many town-lots 
that were totally unproductive, but which promised to be very 
valuable, like Ravensnest itself, at some future day. Most 
things in America looked to the future, then as now ; though I 
trust the hour of fruition is eventually to arrive. My town 
property has long since become very valuable, and tolerably 
productive. 

As soon as our scheme for reletting was matured, Frank 
summoned the occupants of the fanns, in bodies of ten, to pre- 
sent themselves at the Nest, in order to take their new leases. 
We had ridden round the estate, and conversed with the ten- 
antry, and had let my intentions be known previously, so that 
little remained to be discussed. The farms were all relet for 
three lives, and on my own plan, no one objecting to the rent, 
which, it was admitted all round, was not only reasonable, but 
low. Circumstances were then too recent to admit of the past's 
being forgotten ; and the day when the last lease was signed 
was one of general satisfaction. I did think of giving a land- 
lord's dinner, and of collecting the whole settlement in a body, 
for the purposes of jovial and friendly communion ; but old 
Andries threw cold water on the project. 

''T'at would do, Mortaunt," he said, *' if you hat only raal 
New Yorkers, or middle states' men to teal wit' ; but more fan 
half of t'ese people are from t'e Eastern states, where t'ere aro 
no such t'ings as lantlorts and tenants, on a large scale you 
imterstant; and t'ere isn't a man among 'em all t'at isn't look- 
ing forwart to own his farm one tay, by hook or by crook. 
T'ey're as jealous of t'eir tignities as if each man wast a full 
colonel, and will not t'ank you for a tinner at which t'ey will 
seem to play secont fittle." 

Although I knew the Chainbearer had his ancient Dutch pre- 
judices against our eastern brethren, I also knew that there 



196 THE CHAINBEARER. 

was a good deal of truth in -wliat lie said. Frank Malbone, 
who was Rhode Island born, had the same notions, I found on 
inquiry ; and I was disposed to defer to his opinions. Frank 
Malbone was a gentleman himself, and men of that class are 
always superior to low jealousies ; but Frank must know better 
how to appreciate the feelings of those among whom he had 
been bred and born than I could possibly know how to do it 
myself. The project of the dinner was accordingly abandoned. 

It remained to make a new arrangement and a final settlement 
with Mr. Jason Newcome, who was much the most thriving 
man at Ravensnest ; appearing to engross in his single person 
all the business of the settlement. He was magistrate, supervi- 
sor, deacon, according to the Congregational plan, or whatever 
he is called, miller, store-keeper, will-drawer, tavern-keeper by 
deputy, and adviser-general, for the entire region. Every thing 
seemed to pass through his hands ; or, it would be better to 
say, every thing entered them, though little indeed came out 
again. This man was one of those moneyed gluttons, on a 
small scale, who live solely to accumulate ; in my view, the most 
odious character on earth ; the accumulations having none of 
the legitimate objects of proper industry and enterprise in view. 
So long as there was a man near him whom he supposed to be 
richer than himself, Mr. Newcome would have been unhappy ; 
though he did not know what to do with the property he had 
already acquired. One does not know whether to detest or to 
pity such characters the most ; since, while they are and must 
be repugnant to every man of right feelings and generous mind, 
they carry in their own bosoms the worm that never dies, to 
devour their own vitals. 

Mr. Nev,'come had taken his removal from the agency in 
seeming good part, affecting a wish to give it up from the mo- 
ment he had reason to think it was to be taken from him. On 
this score, therefore, all Avas amicable, not a complaint being 
made on his side. On the contrary, he met Frank Malbone 
with the most seeming cordiality, and we proceeded to busi- 
ness with as much apparent good-will as had been manifested 



THE CIIAINBEARER. 197 

in any of the previous bargains. Mr. Ncwcome did notliing 
directly ; a circuitous path being the one he had been accustomed 
to travel from childhood. 

'' You took the mill-lot and the use of five hundred acres of 
wood-land from my grandfather for three lives ; or failing these, 
for a full term of one-and-twenty years, I find, Mr. Newcome," 
I remarked, as soon as we were seated at business, *' and for a 
nominal rent ; the mills to be kept in repair, and to revert to 
the landlord at the termination of the lease." 

" Yes, Major Littlepage, that was the bargain I will allow, 
though a hard one has it proved to me. The war come on" — 
this man was what was called liberally educated, but he habit- 
ually used bad grammar — " The war come on, and with it hard 
times, and I didn't know but the major would be willing to 
consider the circumstances, if we make a new bargain." 

*' The war cannot have had much eflfect to your prejudice, as 
grain of all sorts bore a high price ; and I should think the 
fact that large armies were near by, to consume every thing you 
had to sell, and that at high prices, more than compensated for 
any disadvantage it might have induced. You had the benefits 
of two wars, Mr. Newcome; that of 1775, and a part of that of 
1756." 

My tenant made no answer to this, finding I had reflected on 
the subject, and was prepared to answer him. After a pause, 
he turned to more positive things. 

"I suppose the major goes on the principle of supposing a 
legal right in an old tenant to enj'y a new lease ? I'm told ho 
has admitted this much in all his dealin's." 

" Then you have been misinformed, sir. I am not weak 
enough to admit a right that the lease itself, which, in the na- 
ture of things, must and does form the tenant's only title, contra- 
dicts in terms. Your legal interest in the property ceases alto- 
gether in a few days from this time." 

" Y-a-a-s — y-a-a-s — sir, I conclude it doose," said the 'squire, 
leaning back in his chair, until his body was at an angle of some 
sixty or seventy degrees with the floor — "I conclude it doose 



198 THE CHAINBEAREK. 

accordin' to the covenants ; but between man and man, tlicre 
ouo-ht to be suthin' more bindin.' " 

" I know of notliinc: more binding; in a lease than its cove- 
nants, Mr. New-come." 

" Wa-a-l" — how that man would ' wa-a-a-l' when he wished 
to circumvent a fellow-creature ; and with what a Jesuitical 
accent he did pronounce the word! "Wa-a-a-l — that's ac- 
cordin' to folk's idees. A covenant may be hard ; and then, 
in my judgment, it ought to go for nothin'. I'm ag'in all hard 
covenants." 

" Harkee, frient Jason," put in the Chainbearer, who was an 
old acquaintance of Mr. Newcome's, and appeared thoroughly 
to understand his character — " Harkee, frient Jason ; do you 
gift back unexpected profits, ven it so happens t'at more are 
mate on your own pargains fan were look for?" 

"It's not of much use to convarse with you, Chainbearer, 
on such subjects, for we'll never think alike," answered the 
'squire, leaning still farther back in his chair; "you're what I 
call a particular man, in your notions, and we should never agree." 

" Still, there is good sense in the Chainbearer's question,'* 
I added. " Unless prepared to answer ' yes,' I do not see how 
you can apply your own principle with any justice. But let 
this pass as it will, why are covenants made, if they are not to 
be regarded ?" 

" Wa-a-l, now, accordin' to my notion, a covenant in a lease 
is pretty much like a water-course in a map ; not a thing to be 
partic'lar at all about; but as watercourses look well on a map, 
so covenants read well in a lease. Landlords like to have 'em, 
♦•nd tenants a' n't particular." 

"You can hardly be serious in either case, I should hope, 
Mr. Newcome, but are pleased to exercise your ingenuity on us 
for your own amusement. There is nothing so particular in the 
covenants of your lease as to require any case of conscience to 
decide on its points." 

" There's this in it, major, that you get the whull property 
back ag'in, if you choose to claim it." 



THE CII AIN BE ARE R. 199 

*' Claim it ! — tlie wliole property lias been mine, or my pred- 
ecessors', ever since it was granted to us by the crown. All 
your rights come from j^our lease; and when that terminates, 
your rights terminate." 

"Not accordin' to my judgment, major; not accordin' to 
my judgment. I built the mills at my own cost, you'll remem- 
ber." 

" I certainly know, sir, that you built the mills at what you 
call your own cost ; that is, you availed yourself of a natural 
mill-seat, used our timber and other materials, and constructed 
the mills, such as they are, looking for your reward in their use 
for the term of a quarter of a century, for a mere nominal rent 
— having saw-logs at command as you wanted them, and other- 
wise enjoying privileges under one of the most liberal leases 
that w^as ever granted." 

"Yes, sir, but that was in ike bargain I made with your 
grand' ther. It was agreed between us, at the time I took the 
place, that I was to cut logs at will, and of course use the ma- 
terials on the ground for buildin'. You see, major, your 
gi'and'ther wanted the mills built desperately ; and so he gave 
them conditions accordin'ty. You'll find every syllable on't in 
the lease." 

" No doubt, Mr. Newcome ; and you will also find a cove- 
nant in the same lease, by which your interest in the property 
is to cease in a few days." 

" Wa-a-1, now, I don't understand leases in that way. Surely 
it was never intended a man should erect mills, to lose all right 
in 'em at the end of five-and-twenty years." 

** That will depend on the bargain made at the time. Some 
persons erect mills and houses that have no rights in them at 
all. They are paid for their work as they build." 

" Yes, yes — carpenters and millwrights, you mean. But I'm 
spcakin' of no such persons ; I'm speakin' of honest, hard- 
workin', industrious folks, that give their labor and time to 
build up a settlement ; and not of your mechanics who work 
for hire. Of course, they're to be paid for what they do, and 
there's an cend on't." 



200 THE C II A I N B E A R E R . 

*' I am not aware that all honest persons are hard-W( irking, 
any more than that all hard-working persons are honest. I wish 
to be understood that, in the first place, Mr. Newcomc. Phrase? 
will procm'e no concession from me. I agree with you, how- 
ever, perfectly, in saying that when a man is paid for his w^ork, 
there will be what you call 'an end of it.' Now twenty-three 
days from this moment, you will have been paid for all you 
have done on my property according to your ow^n agreement; 
and, by your own reasoning, there must be an end of your con- 
nection with that property." 

"The major doesn't ra-a-lly mean to rob me of all my hard 



eamm s 



!" 



'' Mr. Newcome, roh is a hard word, and one that I beg may 
not be again used between you and me. I have no intention 
to rob you, or to let you rob me. The pretence that you are 
not, and were not acquainted with the conditions of this lease, 
comes rather late in the day, after a possession of a quarter of a 
century. You know very well that my grandfather would not 
sell, and that he would do no more than lease ; if it were your 
wish to purchase, why did you not go elsewhere, and get land 
in fee? There were, and still are, thousands of acres to be 
sold, all around you. I have lands to sell, myself, at Moose- 
ridge, as the agent of my father and Colonel Follock, within 
twenty miles of you, and they tell me capital mill-seats in the 
bargain." 

" Yes, major, but not so much to my notion as this — I kind 
o' wanted this !" 

"But, I kind o' want this, too; and, as it is mine, I think, 
in common equity, I have the best claim to enjoy it." 

" It's on equity I want to put this very matter, major — I 
know the law is ag'in me — that is, some people say it is ; but, 
some think not, now we've had a revolution — but, let the law 
go as it may, there's such a thing as what I call right between 
man and man." 

"Certainly; and law is an invention to enforce it. It is 
light I should do exactly what my grandfather agreed to do 



THE CHAIN BEARER. 201 

for mc, five-and-twenty years ago, in relation to these mills ; and 
it is right you should do what you agreed to do, for yourself." 

" I have done so. I agreed to build the mills, in a sartain 
form and mode, and I done it. I'll defy mortal man to say 
otherwise. The saw-mill was smashing away at the logs with 
in two months a'ter I got the lease, and we began to grind in 
four !" 

" No doubt, sir, you were active and industrious — though, to 
be frank with you, I will say that competent judges tell mc 
neither mill is worth much now." 

"That's on account of the lease" — cried Mr. Newcome, a 
little too hastily, possibly, for the credit of his discretion — 
**how did I know when it would run out? Your gran'ther 
granted it for three lives, and twenty-one years afterward, and 
I did all a man could to make it last as long as I should my- 
self; but, here I am, in the prime of life, and in danger of losing 
my property !" 

I knew all the facts of the case perfectly, and had intended 
to deal liberally with Mr. Newcome from the first. In his 
greediness for gain he had placed his lives on three infants, al- 
though my grandfather had advised him to place at least one on 
himself; but, no — Mr. Newcome had fancied the life of an 
infant better than that of a man ; and in three or four years 
after the signature of the lease, his twenty-one years had begun 
to run, and were now near expiring. Even under this certainly 
unlooked-for state of things, the lease had been a very advan- 
tageous one for the tenant ; and, had one of his lives lasted, a 
century, the landlord would have looked in vain for any con- 
cession on that account ; landlords never asking for, or expect- 
injr favors of that sort ; indeed most landlords would be 
ashamed to receive them ; nevertheless, I was disposed to con- 
sider the circumstances, to overlook the fact that the mills and 
all the other buildings on the property were indifibrently built, 
and to relet for an additional term of twenty-one years, woo<l- 
lands, farms, buildings and other privileges, for about one- 
third of the money that Mr. Newcome himself would have 



202 THE CHAINBEARER. 

been apt to ast, had lie tlie letting instead of myself. Unwill- 
ing to prolong a discussion with a man who, by his very na- 
ture, was unequal to seeing more than one side of a subject, I 
cut the matter short, by telling him my terms without further 
delay. 

Notwithstanding all his acting and false feeling, the 'squire 
was so rejoiced to learn my moderation, that he could not but 
openly express his feelings ; a thing he would not have done, 
did he not possess the moral certainty I would not depart from 
my word. I felt it necessary, however, to explain myself. 

"Before I give you this new lease, Mr. Newcome," I added, 
holding the instrument signed in my hand, *'I wish to be un- 
derstood. It is not granted under the notion that you have any 
right to ask it, beyond the allowance that is always made by a 
liberal landlord to a reasonably good tenant ; which is simply a 
preference over others on the same terms. As for the early loss 
of your lives, it was your own fault. Had the infants you 
named, or had one of them, passed the state of childhood, it 
might have lived to be eighty, in which case my timber-land 
would have been stripped without any return to its true owner; 
but your children died, and the lease was brought within rea- 
sonable limits. Now, the only inducement I have for offering 
the terms I do, is the liberality that is usual with landlords, « 
what is conceded is conceded as no right, but as an act of 
liberality." 

This was presenting to my tenant the most incomprehensible 
of all reasons for doing any thing. A close and sordid calcu- 
lator himself, he was not accustomed to give any man credit 
for generosity ; and, from the doubting, distrustful manner m 
which he received the paper, I suspected at the moment that 
he was afraid there was some project for taking him in. A 
rogue is always distrustful, and as often betrays his character to 
honest men by that as by any other failing. I was not to regu- 
late my own conduct, however, by the weaknesses of Jason 
Newcome, and the lease was granted. 

I could wish here to make one remark. Tliere ought cer- 



THE CnAlNBEAREll. 203 

tainly to be tlie sarr e principle of good fellowsliip existing be- 
tween tbe relations of landlord and tenant that exist in the 
other relations of life, and which creates a moral tie between 
parties that have much connection in their ordinary interests, 
and that to a degree to produce preferences and various privi- 
leges of a similar character. This I am far from calling in ques- 
tion ; and, on the whole, I think, of all that class of relations, 
the one in question is to be set down as among the most bind- 
ing and sacred. Still, the mere moral rights of the tenant must 
depend on the rigid maintenance of all the rights of the land- 
lord ; the legal and moral united ; and the man who calls in 
question either of the latter, surely violates every claim to have 
his own pretensions allowed, beyond those which the strict let- 
ter of the law will yield jto him. The landlord who will grant 
a new lease to the individual who is endeavoring to undermine 
his rights, hy either direct or indirect means, commits the weak- 
ness of arming an enemy with the knife hy which he is himself to 
he assaulted, in addition to the error of granting power to a man 
who, under the character of a spurious liberty, is endeavoring to 
unsettle the only conditions on which civilized can society exist. If 
landlords will exhibit the weakness, they must blame themselves 
for the consequences. 

I got rid of Mr. Newcome by the grant of the lease, his whole 
manoeuvring having been attempted solely to lower the rent ; 
for he was much too shrewd to believe in the truth of his own 
doctrines on the subject of right and wrong. That same day 
my axe-men appeared at the 'Nest, having passed the interme- 
diate time in looking at various tracts of land that were in the 
market, and which they had not found so eligible, in the way 
of situation, quality, or terms, as those I offered. By this 
time, the surveyed lots of Mooseridge were ready, and I offered 
to sell them to these emigrants. The price was only a dollar 
an acre, with a credit of ten years ; the interest to be paid an- 
nually. One would have thought that the lowness of the price 
would have induced men to prefer lands in fee to lands on lease ; 
but these persons, to a man, found it more to their interests to 



204 THE CHAIN BEARER. 

take farms on three-lives leases, being rent-free for tlie first five 
years, and at nominal rents for the remainder of the term, than 
to pay seven dollars a year of interest, and a hundred dollars in 
money, at the expiration of the credit.* This fact, of itself, 
goes to show how closely these men calculated their means, and 
the effect their decisions might have on their interests. Nor 
were their decisions always wrong. Those who can remember 
the start the country took shortly after the peace of '83, the 
prices that the settlers on new lands obtained for their wheat, 
ashes and pork ; three dollars a bushel often for the first, three 
hundred dollars a ton for the second, and eight or ten dollars a 
hundred for the last, will at once understand that the occupant 
of new lands at that period obtained enormous wages for a la- 
borer by means of the rich unexhausted lands he was thus per- 
mitted to occupy. No doubt he would have been in a better 
situation had he owned his farm in fee at the end of his lease ; 
so would the merchant who builds a ship and clears her cost 
by her first freight, have been a richer man had he cleared the 
cost of two ships instead of one ; but he has done well, not- 
withstanding ; and it is not to be forgotten that the man who 
commences life with an axe and a little household furniture, is 
in the situation of a mere day-laborer. The addition to his 
means of the use of land is the very circumstance that enables 
him to rise above his humble position, and to profit by the 
cultivation of the soil. At the close of the last century, and at 
the commencement of the present, the country was so placed 
as to render every stroke of the axe directly profitable, the very 
labor that was expended in clearing away the trees meeting with 



* Tbo fact here stated by Mr. Littlepage should never be forgotten ; inasmuch as it 
colors the entire nature of the pretension now set up as to the exactions of leases. No 
man in New York need ever have leased a farm for the want of an opportunity of 
vurcJiasinff, there never having been a time when laud for farms in fee has not been 
openly on sale within the bounds of the state ; and land every way as eligible as that 
leased. In few cases have two adjoining estates been leased; and where such has been 
ihe fact, the husbandman might always have found a farm in fee, at the cost of half 
a day's travelling. The benefits to the landlord have usually been so remote on the 
estate leased, that by far the greater proportion of the proprietors have preferred 
Delling at once, to waiting for the tardy operations of time. — Editok. 



THE CHAINBEARER. 205 

a return so liberal by the sale of the ashes manufactuied, as to 
induce even speculators to engage in the occupation. Tt may 
one day be a subject of curious inquiry to ascertain how so 
much was done as is known to have been done at that period, 
toward converting the wilderness into a garden ; and I will here 
record, for the benefit of posterity, a brief sketch of one of the 
processes of getting to be comfortable, if not rich, that was nmch 
used in that day. 

It was a season's work for a skilful axe-man to chop, log, 
burn, clear, and sow ten acres of forest land. The ashes he 
manufactured. For the heavier portions of the work, such as 
the logging, he called on his neighbors for aid, rendering simi- 
lar assistance by way of payment. One yoke of oxen frequently 
sufficed for two or three farms, and '' logging-bees" have given 
rise to a familiar expression among us, that is known as legis- 
lative "log-rolling;" a process by v/hich, as is well known, ono 
set of members supports the project of another set, on the prin- 
ciple of reciprocity. 

Now, ten acres of land, cropped for the first time, might very 
well yield a hundred and fifty bushels of merchantable wheat, 
which would bring three hundred dollars in the Albany market. 
They would also make a ton of pot-ashes, which would sell for 
at least two hundred dollars. This is giving five hundred dol- 
lars for a single year's work. Allowing for all the drawbacks 
of buildings, tools, chains, transportation, provisions, etc., and 
one-half of this money might very fairly be set down as clear 
profit ; very large returns to one who before he got his fai-m, 
was in the situation of a mere day-laborer, content to toil for 
eight or nine dollars the month. 

That such was the history, in its outlines, of the rise of thou- 
sands of the yeomen who now dwell in New York, is undeni- 
able ; and it goes to show that if the settler in a new country 
has to encounter toil and privations, they are not always without 
their quick rewards. In these later times, men go on the open 
prairies, and apply the plough to an ancient sward ; but I ques- 
tion if they would not rather encounter the virgin forests of 



206 THE CHAINBEAREU. 

1790, with the prices of that day, than run over the present 
park-like fields, in order to raise wheat for 37i cents per bushel, 
have no ashes at any price, and sell their pork at two dollars 
the hundred ! 



THE CHAINBEAREU. 207 



CHAPTER XIV. 

"Intent to blend her with his lot, 
Fate formed her all that he was not ; 
And, as by mere unlikeness thought. 

Associate we see, 
Their hearts, from very difiFcrence, caught 

A perfect sympathy." 

PiNCKNBT. 

All this time I saw Ursula Malbone daily, and at all hours 
of the day. Inmates of the same dwelling, we met constantly, 
and many were the interviews and conversations which took 
place between us. Had Dus been the most finished coquette 
in existence, her practised ingenuity could not have devised 
more happy expedients to awaken interest in me than those 
which were really put in use by this singular girl, without the 
slightest intention of bringing about any such result. Indeed, 
it was the nature, the total absence of art, that formed one of 
the brightest attractions of her character, and gave so keen a 
zest to her cleverness and beauty. In that day, females, while 
busied in the affairs of their household, appeared in " short 
gown and petticoat," as it was termed, a species of Hvery that 
even ladies often assumed of a morning. The toilette was of 
far wider range in 1784 than it is now, the distinctions between 
morning and evening dress being much broader then than at 
present. As soon as she was placed really at the head of her 
brother's house, Ursula Malbone set about the duties of her 
new station quietly and without the slightest fuss, but actively 
and with interest. She seemed to me to possess, iu a high 
degree, that particular merit of carrying on the details of her 
office in a silent, unobtrusive manner, while they were per- 
formed most effectually, and entirely to the comfort of those for 



1:0 S THE C II A I N B E A K K R . 

whose benefit her care was exercised. I am not one of those 
domestic canters who fancy a woman, in order to make a good 
wife, needs be a drudge, and possess the knowledge of a cook 
or a laundress ; but it is certainly of great importance that she 
have the faculty of presiding over her family with intelligence, 
and an attention that is suited to her means of expenditure. 
Most of all it is important that she know hoAv to govern with- 
out being seen or heard. 

The wife of an educated man should be an educated woman ; 
one fit to be his associate, qualified to mingle her tastes with 
liis own, to exchange ideas, and otherwise to be his companion, 
in an intellectual sense. These are the higher requisites; a 
gentleman accepting the minor qualifications as so many extra 
advantages, if kept within their proper limits ; but as positive 
disadvantages if they interfere with, or in any manner mar the 
manners, temper, or mental improvement of the woman whom 
he has chosen as his wife, and not as his domestic. Some sac- 
rifices may be necessary in those cases in which cultivation 
exists without a sufficiency of means ; but even then, it is sel- 
dom indeed that a woman of the proper qualities may not be 
prevented from sinking to the level of a menial. As for the 
cant of the newspapers on such subjects, it usually comes from 
those whose homes are mere places for "board and lodging." 

The address with which Dus discharged all the functions of 
her new station, while she avoided those that were unseemly 
and out of place, charmed me almost as much as her spirit, 
character and beauty. The negroes removed all necessity for 
her descending to absolute toil ; and with what pretty, feminine 
dexterity did she perform the duties that properly belonged 
to her station ! Always cheerful, frequently singing, not in a 
noisy, milk-maid mood, but at those moments when she might 
fancy herself unheard, and in sweet, plaintive songs that seemed 
to recall the scenes of other days. Always cheerful, however, 
is saying a little too much ; for occasionally, Dus was sad. I 
found her in tears three or four times, but did not dare inquire 
into their cause. There was scarce time, indeed; for the 



THE CIIAINBEARER. 209 

instant I appeared, she dried licr eyes, and received me witli 
smiles. 

It is scarcely necessary to say that to me the time passed 
pleasantly, and amazingly fast. Chainbearer remained at the 
Nest by my orders, for he would not yield to requests ; and I 
do not remember a more delightful month than that proved to 
be. I made a very general acquaintance with my tenants, and 
found many of them as straightforward, honest, hard-worhing 
yeomen, as one could wish to meet. My brother major, in 
particular, was a hearty old fellow, and often came to see me, 
living on the farm that adjoined my own. He growled a little 
about the sect that had got possession of the " meetin'-us," but 
did it in a way to show there was not much gall in his own 
temperament. 

" I don't rightly understand these majority matters," said the 
old fellow, one day that we were talking the matter over, **thouo-h 
I very well know Newcome always manages to get one, let the 
folks think as they will. I've known the 'squire contrive to cut 
a majority out of about a fourth of all present, and he does it in 
a way that is desp'ret ingen'ous, I will allow, though I'm afeard 
it's neither law nor gospel." 

" He certainly managed, in the affair of the denomination, to 
make a plurality of one appear in the end to be a very hand- 
some majority over all." 

"Ay, there's twists and turns in these things that's beyond 
my I'arnin', though I s'pose all's right. It don't matter much 
in the long run, a'ter all, where a man worships, provided he 
worships ; or who preaches, so that he listens." 

I think this liberality — if that be the proper word — in relio-- 
ious matters, is fast increasing among us ; though liberality may 
be but another term for indifference. As for us Episcopalians, 
I wonder there are any left in the country, though we are 
largely on the increase. There we were, a church that insisted 
on Episcopal ministrations — on confirmation in particular — left 
for a century without a bishop, and unable to conform to prac- 
tices that it was insisted on were essential, and this solely be- 



-210 THE CIIAINBEARER. 

cause it did not suit the policy of tlie mother country to grant 
us prchitcs of our own, or to send us, occasionally even, one of 
hers ! How miserable do human expedients often appear when 
they are tried by the tests of common sense ! A church of 
God, insisting on certain spiritual essentials that it denies to a 
portion of its people, in order to conciliate worldly interests ! 
It is not the church of England, however, nor the government 
of England, that is justly obnoxious to such an accusation ; 
something equally bad and just as inconsistent, attaching itself 
to the ecclesiastical influence of every other system in Christen • 
dom under which the state is tied to religion by means of 
human provisions. The mistake is in connecting the things of 
the world with the things that arc of God. 

Alas ! — alas ! When you sever that pernicious tie, is the 
matter much benefited ? How is it among ourselves ? Are 
not sects, and shades of sects, springing up among us on every 
side, until the struggle between parsons is getting to be not 
who shall aid in making most Christians, but who shall gather 
into his fold most sectarians ? As for the people themselves, 
instead of regarding churches, even after they have established 
them, and that too very much on their own authority, they 
first consider their own tastes, enmities and predilections, re- 
spectiDg the priest far more than the altar, and set themselves 
up as a sort of religious constituencies, who are to be represented 
directly in the government of Christ's followers on earth. Half 
of a parish will fly off in a passion to another denomination if 
they happen to fall into a minority. Truly, a large portion of 
our people is beginning to act in this matter, as if they had a 
sense of " giving their support" to the Deity, patronizing him 
in this temple or the other, as may suit the feeling or the inter- 
est of the moment.* 



[* If Mr. Littlepago wrote thus, thirty or forty years since, how would he have 
written to-d;vy, when we have had loud protestations flourishing around us in the 
public journals, that this or that sectarian polity was most in unison with a republican 
form of government ? What renders this assumption as absurd as it is presuming, is 
the well-known fact that it comes from those who have ever been loudest in their dec 
laraations of a union between church and stale !] 



THE CHAINBEARER. 211 

But I am not writi;ig homilies, and will return to tlie Nest 
and my friends. A day or two after Mr. Newcome received 
his new lease, Chainbearer, Frank, Dus and I were in the little 
arbor that overlooked the meadows, when we saw Sureflint, 
moving at an Indian's pace, along a path that came out of the 
forest, and which was known to lead toward Mooseridge. The 
Onondago carried his rifle as usual, and bore on his back a largo 
bunch of something that we supposed to be game, though the 
distance prevented our discerning its precise character. In 
half a mmute he disappeared behind a projection of the cliffs, 
ti'otting toward the buildings. 

"My friend the Trackless has been absent from us now a 
longer time than usual," Ursula remarked, as she turned her 
head from following the Indian's movements, as long as he 
remained in sight ; " but he reappears loaded with something 
for our benefit." 

*' He has passed most of his time of late with your uncle, I 
believe," I answered, following Dus's fine eyes with my own, 
the pleasantest pursuit I could discover in that remote quarter 
of the world. '* I have written this to my father, who will be 
glad to hear tidings of his old friend." 

" He is much with my uncle, as you say, being greatly at- 
tached to him. Ah ! here he comes, with such a load on his 
shoulders as an Indian does not love to bear ; though even a 
chief will condescend to carry game." 

As Dus ceased speaking, Sureflint threw a large bunch of 
pigeons, some two or three dozen birds, at her feet, turning 
away quietly, Hke one who had done his part of the work, and 
who left the remainder to be managed by the squaws. 

" Thank you. Trackless," said the pretty housekeeper — 
*' thank'ee kindly. These are beautiful birds, and as fat as butter. 
We shall have them cleaned, and cooked in all manner of ways." 

'* All squab — ^just go to fly — take him cbbery one in JSTest," 
answered the Indian. 

" Nests must be plenty, then, and I should like to visit them,'* 
I cried, remembering to have heard strange marvels of the 



212 THE CIIAINBEARER. 

multitudes of pigeons that were frequently found in tlieir " roosts," 
as the encampments they made in the woods were often termed 
in the parlance of the country. " Can we not go in a body and 
visit this roost ?" 

**It might pe tone," answered the Chainbearer; " it might 
pe tone, and it is time we wast moving in t'eir tirection, if more 
lant is to pe surveyet, ant t'ese pirts came from t'e hill I sup- 
pose t'ey do. Mooseridgc promiset to have plenty of pigeons 
t'is season." 

*' Just so" — answered Sureflint. " Million, t'ousan', hundred 
— more too. Nebber see more ; nebber see so many. Great 
Spirit don't forget poor Injin; sometime give him deer — some- 
time salmon — sometime pigeon — plenty for ebbery body ; only 
t'ink so." 

" Ay, Sureflint ; only t'ink so, inteet, and t'ere is enough for 
us all, and plenty to spare. Got is pountiful to us, put we ton't 
often know how to use his pounty," answered Chainbearer, 
who had been examining the birds — ''Finer squaps arn't often 
met wit' ; and I too shoult like amazingly to see one more roost 
pefore I go to roost myself." 

*' As for the visit to the roost," cried I, '' that is settled for 
to-morrow. But a man who has just come out of a war like 
the last, into peaceable times, has no occasion to speak of his 
end, Chainbearer. You are old in years, but young in mind, as 
well as body." 

" Bot' nearly wore out — bot' nearly wore out ! It is well to 
tell an olt fool t'e contrary, put I know petter. T'reescore 
and ten is man's time, and I haf fillet up t'e numper of my tays. 
Got knows pest, when it wilt pe his own pleasure to call me 
away; put, let it come when it will, I shall now tie happy, com- 
paret wit' what I shoult haf tone a mont' ago." 

" You surprise me, my dear friend ! What has happened to 
make this difference in your feelings ? It cannot be that you 
are changed in any essential." 

"T'e tiflference is in Dus's prospects. Nov*' Frank has a goot 
place, my gal will not pe forsaken." 



THE CII AINBE ARER. 213 

" Forsaken ! Dus — Ursula — Miss Malbone forsaken ! That 
could never happen, Andries, Frank or no Frank." 

*'I hope not — I hope not, lat — put t'e gal pegins to weep, 
and we'll talk no more apout it. Harkce, Susquesus; my olt 
frient, can you guite us to t'is roost?" 

''Why no do it, eh? Path wide — open whole way. Plain 
as river." 

" Well, t'en, we wilt all pe off for t'e place in t'e morning. 
My new assistant is near, and it is high time Frank and I hat 
gone into t'e woots ag'in." 

I heard this arrangement made, though my eyes were follow • 
mg Dus, who had started from her seat, and rushed into the 
house, endeavoring to hide emotions that were not to be hushed. 
A minute later I saw her at the window of her own room, 
smiling, though the cloud had not yet entirely dispersed. 

Next morning early our whole party left the Nest for the hut 
at Mooseridge, and the pigeon-roosts. Dus and the black 
female servant travelled on horseback, there being no want of 
cattle at the Nest, where, as I now learned, my grandfather had 
left a quarter of a century before, among a variety of other 
articles, several side-saddles. The rest of us proceeded on foot, 
though we had no less than three sumpter beasts to carry our 
food, instruments, clothes, etc. Each man was armed, almost 
as a matter of course in that day, though I carried a double-bar- 
relled fowling-piece myself, instead of a rifle. Susquesus acted 
as our guide. 

We were quite an hour before we reached the limits of the 
settled farms on my own property ; after which, we entered the 
virgin forest. In consequence of the late war, which had 
brought every thing like the settlement of the country to a 
dead stand, a new district had then little of the straggling, 
suburb -like clearings, which are apt now to encircle the older 
portions of a region that is in the state of transition. On the 
contrary, the last well-fenced and reasonably well-cultivated 
farm passed, we plunged into the boundless woods, and took a 
complete leave of nearly every vestige of civilized life, as one 



214 THE CHAINBEARER. 

enters the fields on quitting a town in France. There was a 
path, it is true, following the line of blazed trees ; but it wa3 
scarcely beaten, and was almost as illegible as a bad hand. 
Still, one accustomed to the forest had little difficulty in follow- 
ing it ; and Susquesus would have had none in finding his way, 
had there been no path at all. As for the Chainbearer, he 
moved forward too, with the utmost precision and confidence, 
the habit of running straight lines amid trees having given 
his eye an accuracy that almost equalled the species of instinct 
that was manifested by the Trackless himself, on such sub- 
jects. 

This was a pleasant little journe}'', the depths of the forast 
rendering the heats of the season as agreeable as was possible. 
We were four hours in reaching the foot of the little mountain 
on which the birds had built their nests, where we halted to 
take some refreshments. 

Little time is lost at meals in the forest, and we were soon 
ready to ascend the hill. The horses were left with the blacks, 
Dus accompanying us on foot. As we left the spring where we 
had halted, I ofiered her an arm to aid in the ascent ; but she 
declined it, apparently much amused that it should have been 
ojffered. 

''What I, a Chainbearess !" she cried, laughing — "I, who 
have fairly wearied out Frank, and even made my uncle feel 
tired, though he would never own it — I accept an arm to help 
me up a hill ! You forget. Major Littlepage, that the first ten 
years of my life were passed in a forest, and that a year's prac- 
tice has brought back all my old habits, and made me a girl of 
the woods again." 

" I scarce know what to make of you, for you seem fitted 
for any situation in which you may happen to be thrown." I 
answered, profiting by the circumstance that we were out of 
the hearing of our companions, who had all moved ahead, to 
utter more than I otherwise might venture to say — " at one 
time I fancy you the daughter of one of my own tenants , at 
another, the heiress of some ancient patroon. ' ' 



THE CHAINBEARER. 215 

Diis lauglied again ; then she blushed ; and for the remamder 
of the short ascent, she remained silent. Short the ascent was, 
and we were soon on the summit of the hill. So far from need- 
ing my assistance, Dus actually left me behind, exerting her- 
self in a way that brought her up at the side of the Trackless, 
who led our van. Whether this was done in order to prove 
how completely she was a forest girl, or whether my words had 
aroused those feelings that are apt to render a female impulsive, 
is more than I can say even now ; though I suspected at the 
time that the latter sensations had quite as much to do with 
this extraordinary activity as the former. I was not far behind, 
however, and when our party came fairly upon the roost, the 
Trackless, Dus and myself, were all close together. 

I scarce know how to describe that remarkable scene. As 
we drew near to the summit of the hill, pigeons began to be 
seen fluttering among the branches over our heads, as individ- 
uals are met along the roads that lead into the suburbs of a 
large town. We had probably seen a thousand birds glancing 
around among the trees, before we came in view of the roost 
itself. The numbers increased as we drew nearer, and presently 
the forest was alive with them. The fluttering was incessant, 
and often startling as we passed ahead, our march producing a 
movement in the living crowd, that really became confounding. 
Every tree was literally covered with nests, many having at 
least a thousand of these frail tenements on their branches, and 
shaded by the leaves. They often touched each other, a wonder- 
ful degree of order prevailing among the hundreds of thousands 
of families that were here assembled. The place had the odor 
of a fowl-house, and squabs just fledged sufficiently to trust 
themselves in short flights, were fluttering around us in all di- 
rections, in tens of thousands. To these were to be added the 
parents of the young race endeavoring to protect them, and 
guide them in a way to escape harm. Although the birds rose 
as we approached, and the woods just around us seemed fairly 
alive with pigeons, our presence produced no general commo- 
tion ; every one of the feathered throng appearing to be so much 



216 THE CHAIN BEARER. 

occupied with its own concerns, as to take little lieed of tlio 
visit of a party of strangers, though of a race usually so formid- 
able to their own. The masses moved before us precisely as a 
crowd of human beings yields to a pressure or a danger on any 
given point ; the vacuum created by its passage filling in its 
rear, as the water of the ocean flows into the track of the keel. 
The effect on most of us was confounding, and I can only 
compare the sensation produced on myself by the extraordiliary 
tumult to that a man experiences at finding himself suddenly 
placed in the midst of an excited throng of human beings. The 
unnatural disregard of our persons manifested by the birds 
greatly heightened the effect, and caused me to feel as if some 
unearthly influence reigned in the place. It was strange, indeed, 
to be in a mob of the feathered race, that scarce exhibited a 
consciousness of one's presence. The pigeons seemed a world 
of themselves, and too much occupied with their own concerns 
to take heed of matters that lay beyond them. 

Not one of our party spoke for several minutes. Astonish- 
ment seemed to hold us all tongue-tied, and we moved slowly 
forward into the fluttering throng, silent, absorbed, and full 
of admiration of the works of the Creator. It was not easy to 
hear each others' voices when we did speak, the incessant flut- 
tering of wings filling the air. Nor were the birds silent in 
other respects. The pigeon is not a noisy creature, but a mill- 
ion crowded together on the summit of one hill, occupying a 
space of less than a mile square, did not leave the forest in its 
ordinary impressive stillness. As we advanced, I offered my 
arm, almost unconsciously, again to Dus, and she took it with 
the same abstracted manner as that in which it had been held 
forth for her acceptance. In this relation to each other, we con- 
tinued to follow the grave-looking Onondago, as he moved, 
still deeper and deeper, into the midst of the fluttering tumult. 

At this instant there occurred an interruption that, I am 
ready enough to confess, caused the blood to rush toward my 
own heart in a flood. As for Dus, she clung to me, as woman 
;^'ill Cling to man, when he possesses her confidence, and she 



THE CHAINBEARER. 217 

feels tljat she is insufficient for lier own support. Both hands 
were on my arm, and I felt that, unconsciously, her form was 
pressing closer to mine, in a manner she would have carefully 
avoided in a moment of perfect self-possession. Nevertheless, 
I cannot say that Dus was afraid. Her color was heightened, 
her charming eyes were filled with a wonder that was not un- 
mixed with curiosity, but her air was spirited in spite of a scene 
that might try the nerves of the boldest man. Sureflint and 
Chainbearer were alone totally unmoved ; for they had been at 
pigeons' roosts before, and knew what to expect. To them the 
wonders of the woods were no longer novel. Each stood lean- 
ing on his rifle, and smiling at our evident astonishment. I am 
wrong ; the Indian did not even smile ; for that would have 
been an unusual indication of feeling for him to manifest ; but 
he did betray a sort of covert consciousness that the scene must 
be astounding to us. But I will endeavor to explain what it 
was that so largely increased the first effect of our visit. 

While standing wondering at the extraordinary scene around 
us, a noise was heard rising abov-e that of the incessant flutter- 
ing, which I can only liken to that of the trampling of thou- 
sands of horses on a beaten road. This noise at first sounded 
distant, but it increased rapidly in proximity and power, until 
it came rolling in upon us, among the tree-tops, like a crash of 
thunder. The air was suddenly darkened, and the place where 
we stood as sombre as a dusky twilight. At the same instant, 
all the pigeons near us, that had been on their nests, appeared 
to fall out of them, and the space immediately above our heads 
was at once filled with birds. Chaos itself could hardly have 
represented greater confusion, or a greater uproar. As for the 
birds, they now seemed to disregard our pi«esence entirely; 
possibly they could not see us on account of their own num- 
bers ; for they fluttered in between Dus and myself, hitting us 
with their wings, and at times appearing as if about to bury us 
m avalanches of pigeons. Each of us caught one at least in 
our hands, while Chainbearer and the Indian took them in some 
numbers, letting one prisoner go as another was taken. In a 
10 



218 THE CHAINBEARER. 

word, we seemed to be in a world of pigeons. This part of the 
scene may have lasted a minute, when the space around us was 
suddenly cleared, the birds glancing upward among the branches 
of the trees, disappearing among the foliage. All this was the 
effect produced by the return of the female birds, which had 
been off at a distance, some twenty miles at least, to feed on 
beechnuts, and which now assumed the places of the males on 
the nests ; the latter tating a flight to get their meal in their 
turn. 

I have since had the curiosity to make a sort of an estimate 
of the number of the birds that must have come in upon the 
roost, in that, to us, memorable minute. Such a calculation, as 
a matter of course, must be very vague, though one may get 
certain principles by estimating the size of a flock by the known 
rapidity of the flight, and other similar means ; and I remem- 
ber that Frank Malbone and myself supposed that a million of 
birds must have come in on that return, and as many departed ! 
As the pigeon is a very voracious bird, fhe question is apt to 
present itself, where food is obtained for so many mouths ; but, 
when we remember the vast extent of the American forests, 
this difficulty is at once met. Admitting that the colony we 
visited contained many millions of birds, and, counting old and 
young, I have no doubt it did, there was probably a fruit-bear- 
ing t,ree for each, within an hour's flight from that very spot ! 

Such is the scale on which nature labors in the wilderness ! 
I have seen insects fluttering in the air at particular seasons, 
and at particular places, until they formed little clouds ; a sight 
every one must have witnessed on many occasions ; and as 
those insects appeared, on their diminished scale, so did the 
pigeons appear to us at the roost of Mooseridge. We passed 
an hour in the town of the birds, finding our tongues and our 
other faculties, as we became accustomed to our situation. In 
a short time, even Dus grew as composed as at all comported 
with the excitement natural to one in such a place ; and we 
fitudied the habits of the pretty animals with a zest that I 
found so much the greater for studying them in her company. 



THE CHAINBEARER. 219 

At the end of tlie hour we left the hill, our departure pro- 
ducing no more sensation in that countless tribe of pigeons than 
our arrival. 

*'It is a proof that numbers can change our natures," said 
Dus, as we descended the little mountain. " Here have we 
been almost in contact with pigeons which would not have 
suffered us to come within a hundred feet of them, had they 
been in ordinary flocks, or as single birds. Is it that numbers 
give them courage?" 

"Confidence, rather. It is just so with men; who will ex- 
hibit an indifference in crowds that they rarely possess when 
alone. The sights, interruptions, and even dangers that will 
draw all our attention when with a few, often seem indifferent 
to us when in the tumult of a throng of fellow-creatures." 

" What is meant by a panic in an army, then?" 

*'It is following the same law, making man subject to the 
impulses of those around him. If the impulse be onward, 
onward we go ; if for retreat, we run like sheep. If occupied 
with ourselves as a body, we disregard trifling interruptions, as 
these pigeons have just done in our own case. Large bodies 
of animals, whether human or not, seem to become subject 
to certain general laws that increase the power of the whole 
over the acts and feelings of any one or any few of their num- 
ber." 

'* According to that rule, our new republican form of govern- 
ment ought to be a very strong one ; though I have heard many 
express their fears it will be no government at all." 

" Unless a miracle be wrought in our behalf, it will be the 
strongest government in the world for certain purposes, and the 
weakest for others. It professes a principle of self-preseiTation 
that is not enjoyed by other systems, since the people must 
revolt against themselves to overturn it ; but on the other hand, 
it will want the active living principle of steady, consistent jus- 
tice, since there will be no independent power whose duty and 
whose interest it will be to see it administered. The wisest 
man I ever knew has prophesied to me that this is the point on 



220 THE CHAINBEARER. 

whicli oui system will break down ; rendering the cliaracter, the 
person, and the property of the citizen insecure, and conse- 
quently the institutions odious to those who once have loved 
them." 

"I trust there is no danger of that !" said Dus, quickly. 

* ' There is danger from every thing that man controls. We 
have those among us who preach the possible perfection of the 
human race, maintaining the gross delusion that men are what 
they are known to be, merely because they have been ill-gov- 
erned ; and a more dangerous theory, in my poor judgment, 
cannot be broached." 

*' You think, then, that the theory is false?" 

"Beyond a question; governments are oftener spoiled by 
men, than men by governments ; though the last certainly have 
a marked influence on character. The best government of 
which we know any thing, is that of the universe ; and it is so, 
merely because it proceeds from a single will, that will being 
without blemish." 

" Your despotic governments are said to be the very worst 
in the world." 

" They are good or bad as they happen to be administered. 
The necessity of maintaining such governments by force ren- 
ders them often oppressive ; but a government of numbers may 
become more despotic than that of an individual ; since the 
people will, in some mode or other, always sustain the oppressed 
as against the despot, but rarely, or never, as against them- 
selves. You saw that those pigeons lost their instinct, under 
the impulse given them by numbers. God forever protect me 
against the tyranny of numbers." 

*' But every body says our system is admirable, and the best 
in the world; and even a despot's government is the government 
of a man." 

"It is one of the effects of numbers that men shrink from 
speaking the truth, when they find themselves opposed to large 
majorities. As respects self-rule, the colonies were ever freer 
than the mother country ; and we are, as yet, merely pursuing 



THE CHAINBEARER. 221 

our ancient practices, substituting allegiance to the confedera- 
tion for allegiance to the king. The difference is not sufficient- 
ly material to produce early changes. We are to wait until 
that which there is of new principles in our present system 
shall have time to work radical changes, when we shall begin 
to ascertain how much better w^e really are than our neigh- 
bors."* 

Dus and I continued to converse on this subject until she got 
again into the saddle. I was delighted with her good sense 
and intelligence, which were made apparent more in the per- 
tinacity of her questions than by any positive knowledge she 
had on such subjects, which usually have very few attractions 
for young women. Nevertheless, Dus had an activity of mind 
and a readiness of perception that supplied many of the defi- 
ciencies of education on these points ; and I do not remember 
to have ever been engaged in a political discussion from which 
I derived so much satisfaction. I must own, however, it is 
possible that the golden hair flying about a face that was just 
as ruddy as comported with the delicacy of the sex, the rich 
mouth, the brilliant teeth, and the spirited and yet tender 
blue eyes, may have increased a wisdom that I found so re- 
markable. 

* At tho time of which Mr. Mordaunt Littlepage is here speaking, it wt^ far less tho 
fashion to extol the institutions than it is to-day. Men then openly wrote and spoko 
against them, while few dare, at the present time, point out faults that every person 
of intelligence knows and feels to be defects. A few years since, when Jackson was 
placed in the White House, it was the fashion of Europe to predict that we had ele- 
vated a soldier to power, and that the government of the bayonet was at hand. This 
every intelligent American knew to be rank nonsense. The approach of the govern- 
ment of the bayonet among us, if it is ever to come, may be foreseen by the magnitude 
of popular abuses, against which force is the only remedy. Every well-wisher of tho 
freedom this country has hitherto enjoyed, should now look upon the popular tenden- 
cies with distrust, as, whenever it is taken away, it will go as their direct conse- 
quence ; it being an inherent principle in the corrupt nature of man to misuse all his 
privileges ; even those connected with religion itself. If history proves any thing, It 
l>roves this.— Editob. 



222 THE CIIAINBEAREE. 



CHAPTER XV. 

•'Fie, fie, fond love, thou art so full of fear, 

As one with treasure laden, hemmed with thieves; 
Trifles, unwitnessed with eye or ear, 
Thy coward heart with false bethinking grieves." 

Venus and Adoxis. 

The hut, or huts of Chainbearer, had far more comfort in 
and around them, than I was prepared to find. They were 
three in number, one having been erected as a kitchen, and a 
place to contain the male slaves ; another for the special accom- 
modation of Ursula and the female black ; and the third to 
receive men. The eating-room was attached to the kitchen ; 
and all these buildings, which had now stood the entire year, 
were constructed of logs, and were covered with bark. They 
were roughly made, as usual; but that appropriated to Dus 
was so much superior to the others in its arrangements, internal 
and external, as at once to denote the presence and the influence 
of womaii. It may have some interest with the reader briefly 
to describe the place. 

Quite as a matter of course, a spring had been found, as the 
first consideration in " locating," as it is called by that portion 
of our people who get upon their conversational stilts. The 
spring burst out of the side of a declivity, the land stretching 
away, for more than a mile from its foot, in an inclined plane 
that was densely covered with some of the noblest elms, 
beeches, maples and black birches, I have ever seen. This spot, 
the Chainbearer early assured me, was the most valuable of all 
the lands of Mooseridge. He had selected it because it was 
central, and particularly clear from underbrush ; besides hav- 
ing no stagnant water near it. In other respects, it was like 



THE CHAINBEARER. 223 

any other point in tliat vast forest ; being dart, shaded, and 
surrounded by the magnificence of a bountiful vegetation. 

Here Ohainbearer had erected his hut, a low, solid structure 
of pine logs, that were picturesque in appearance, and not with- 
out their rude comforts, in their several ways. These buildings 
were irregularly placed, though the spring was in their control. 
The kitchen and eating-room were nearest the water ; at no great 
distance from these was the habitation of the men ; while the 
smaller structure, which Frank Malbone laughingly termed the 
^' harem," stood a little apart, on a slight spur of land, but 
within fifty yards of Andries' own lodgings. Boards had been 
cut by hand, for the floors and doors of these huts, though no 
building but the ** harem" had any window that was glazed. 
This last had two such windows, and Frank had even taken 
care to provide for his sister's dwelling, rude but strong window- 
shutters. 

As for defences against an enemy, they were no longer thought 
of within the limits of New York. Block-houses, and other- 
wise fortified dwellings, had been necessary, so long as the 
French possessed Canada; but after the capture of that colony, 
few had deemed any such precautions called for, until the war 
of the revolution brought a savage foe once more among the 
frontier settlements ; frontier, as to civilization, if not as to 
territory. With the termination of that war had ceased this, 
the latest demand for provisions of that nature ; and the Chain- 
bearer had not thought of using any care to meet the emergen- 
cies of violence, in *' making his pitch." 

Nevertheless, each hut would have been a reasonably strong 
post, on an emergency; the logs being bullet-proof, and still 
remaining undecayed and compact. Palisades were not thought 
of now, nor was there any covered means of communicating 
between one hut and another. In a word, whatever there 
xight bfi in the way of security in these structures, was the 
result of the solidity of their material, and of the fashion of 
building that was then, and is still customary everywhere in 
the forest. As against wild beasts there was entire protection 



224 THE CHAINBEARER. 

and other enemies were no longer dreaded. Around the huts 
there were no enclosures of any sort, nor any other cleared land, 
than a spot of about half an acre in extent, off of which had 
been cut the small pines that furnished the logs of which they 
were built. A few vegetables had been put into the ground at 
the most open point ; but a fence being unnecessary, none had 
been built. As for the huts, they stood completely shaded by 
the forest, the pines having been cut on an eminence a hundred 
yards distant. This spot, however, small as it was, brought 
enough of the commoner sort of plants to furnish a frugal table. 
Such was the spot that was then known in all that region by 
the name of the " Chainbearer's Huts." This name has been 
retained, and the huts are still standmg, circumstances having 
rendered them memorable in my personal history, and caused 
me to direct their preservation, at least as long as I shall live. 
As the place had been inhabited a considerable time that spring 
and summer, it bore some of the other signs of the presence of 
man ; but on the whole, its character as a residence was that of 
deep forest seclusion. In point of fact, it stood buried in the 
woods, distant fully fifteen miles from the nearest known habi- 
tation, and in so much removed from the comfort, succor and 
outward communications of civilized life. These isolated abodes, 
however, are by no means uncommon in the state, even at the 
present hour ; and it is probable that some of them will be 
found during the whole of this century. It is true, that the 
western, middle, southern, south-western, north-western and 
north-eastern counties of New York, all of which were wild, or 
nearly so, at the time of which I am writing, are already well 
settled, or are fast filling up ; but there is a high, mountainous 
region, m middle-northern New York, which will remain vir- 
tually a wilderness, I should think for quite a century, if not 
longer. I have travelled through this district of wilderness 
very lately, and have found it picturesque and well suited for 
the sportsman, abounding in deer, fish and forest-birds, but not 
so much suited to the commoner wants of man, as to bring it 
very soon into demand for the ordinary purposes of the hus- 



THE CHAINBEARER. 225 

bandman. If this quarter of the country do not fall into the 
hands of lawless squatters and plunderers of one sort and another, 
of which there is always some danger in a country of so great 
extent, it will become a very pleasant resort of the sportsman, 
who is likely to soon lose his haunts in the other quarters of the 
state. 

Jaap had brought over some horses of mine from the Nest as 
sumpter-beasts, and these being sent back for want of proven- 
der, the negro himself remained at the " Huts" as a general 
assistant, and as a sort of hunter. A Westchester negro is 
pretty certain to be a shot, especially if he happen to belong to 
the proprietor of a Neck ; for there is no jealousy of trusting 
arms in the hands of our New York slaves. But Jaap having 
served, in a manner, was entitled to burn as much gunpowder 
as he pleased. By means of one of his warlike exploits, the 
old fellow had become possessed of a very capital fowling-piece, 
plunder obtained from some slain English officer, I always sup- 
posed ; and this arm he invariably kept near his person, as a 
trophy of his own success. The shooting of Westchester, how- 
ever, and that of the forest, were very different branches of the 
same art. Jaap belonged to the school of the former, in which 
the pointer and setter were used. The game was ''put up," 
and " marked down," and the bird was invariably shot on the 
wing. My attention was early called to this distinction, by 
overhearing a conversation between the negro and the Indian, 
that took place within a few minutes after our arrival, and a 
portion of which I shall now proceed to relate. 

Jaap and Sureflint were, in point of fact, very old acquaint- 
ances, and fast friends. They had been actors in certain memo- 
rable scenes, on those very lands of Mooseridge, some time 
before my birth, and had often met and served as comrades 
during the last war. The known antipathy between the races 
of the red and black man did not exist as between them, though 
the negro regarded the Indian with some of that self-sufficiency 
which the domestic servant would be apt to entertain for a 
«avage roamer of the forest ; while the Onondago could not 



226 THE CHAINBEARER. 

but look on my fellow as one of the freest of the free would 
naturally feel disposed to look on one who was content to live 
in bondage. These feelings were rather mitigated than extin- 
guished by their friendship, and often made themselves mani- 
fest in the course of their daily communion with each other. 

A bag filled with squabs had been brought from the roost, 
and Jaap had emptied it of its contents on the ground near the 
kitchen, to commence the necessary operations of picking and 
cleaning, preparatory to handing the birds over to the cook. 
As for the Onondago, he took his seat near by on a log very 
coolly, a spectator of his companion's labors, but disdaining to 
enter in person on such woman's work, now that he was neither 
on a message nor on a war-path. Necessity alone could induce 
him to submit to any menial labor, nor do I believe he would 
have offered to assist, had he seen the fair hands of Dus herself 
plucking these pigeons. To him it would have been perfectly 
suitable that a '* squaw" should do the work of a "squaw,'* 
while a warrior maintained his dignified idleness. Systematic 
and intelligent industry are the attendants of civilization, the 
wants created by which can only be supplied by the unremitted 
care of those who live by their existence. 

"Dere, old Sus," exclaimed the negro, shaking the last of 
the dead birds from the bag, — " dere, now, Injin ; I s'pose you 
t'inks 'em ere's game !" 

" "What you call him, eh ?" demanded the Onondago, eying 
the negro sharply. 

"I doesn't call 'em game a bit, red-skin. Dem's not varmint, 
n'oder ; but den, dem isn't game. Game's game, I s'pose you 
does know, Sus ?" 

" Game, game — good. T'at true — who say no ?" 

"Yes, it's easy enough to say a t'ing, but it not so beny 
easy to understan'. Can any Injin in York state, now, tell me 
why pigeon isn't game ?" 

" Pigeon game — good game, too. Eat sweet — many time 
want more." 

"Now, I do s'pose, Trackless" — Jaap loved to run through 



THE CHAINBEARER. 227 

the whole vocabulary of the Onondago's names — '' Now, I do 
s'pose, Trackless, you t'ink tame pigeon just as good as wild ?'* 
"Don't know — nebber eat tame — s'pose him good, too." 
" Well, den, you s'poses berry wrong. Tame pigeons poor 
stuff ; but no pigeon be game. Nuttin' game, Sureflint, dat a 
dog won't p'int, or set. Masser Mordaunt h'an't got no dog at 
de Bush or de Toe, and he keeps dogs enough at bot', dat would 
p'int a pigeon." 
"P'int deer, eh?" 

"Well, I doesn't know. P'raps he will, p'raps he wont. 
Dere isn't no deer in Westchester for us to try de dogs on, so a 
body can't tell. You remem'er 'e day, Sus, when we fit your 
red-skins out here, 'long time ago, wit' Masser Corny and Mas- 
ser Ten Eyck, and ole Masser Herman Mordaunt, and Miss 
Anneke, and Miss Mary, an' your frin' Jumper ? You remem'er 
dat,hB.\ Onondago?" 

" Sartain — no forget — Injin nebber forget. Don't forget 
friend — don't forget enemy." 

Here Jaap raised one of his shouting negro laughs, in which 
all the joyousness of his nature seemed to enter with as much 
zest as if he were subjected to a sort of mental tickling ; 
then he let the character of his merriment be seen by his 
answer. 

" Sartain 'nough— you remem'er dat feller, Muss, Trackless ? 
He get heself in a muss by habbing too much mem'ry. Good 
to hab mem'ry when you told to do work ; but sometime me- 
m'ry bad 'nough. Berry bad to hab so much mem'ry dat ho 
can't forget small floggin'." 

"No true," answered the Onondago, a little sternly, though 
a verij little ; for, while he and Jaap disputed daily, they never 
quarrelled — " No true, so. Flog bad for .back." 

" Well, dat because you red-skin — a color' man don't mind 
him as much as dis squab. Get use to him in little while; den 
he nuttin' to speak of." 

Sureflint made no answer, but he looked as if he pitied the 
Ignorance, humility and condition of his friend. 



228 THE CHAINBEARER. 

"What you t'ink of dis worl', Susquesus?" suddenly de- 
manded the negro, tossing a squab that he had cleaned into a 
pail, and taking another. " How you t'ink white man come ? 
— how you t'ink red man come? — how you t'ink color gentl'era 
come, eh?" 

** Great Spirit say so — t'en all come. Fill Injin full of 
blood — t'at make him red — fill nigger wit' ink — t'at make 
him black — pale-face pale 'cause he live in sun, and color dry 
out." 

Here Jaap laughed so loud, that he drew all three of Chain- 
bearer's blacks to the door, who joined in the fun out of pure 
sympathy, though they could not have known its cause. Those 
blacks ! They may be very miserable as slaves ; but it is certain 
no other class in America laugh so often, or so easily, or one- 
half as heai"tily. 

^'Harkee, Injin" — resumed Jaap, as soon as he had laughed 
as much as he wished to do at that particular moment — " Har- 
kee, Injin — you t'ink 'arth round, or 'arth flat?" 

** How do you mean — 'arth up and down — no round — no 
flat." 

*' Dat not what I mean. Bot' up and down in one sens', but 
no up and down in 'noder. Masser Mordaunt, now, and Masser 
Corny too, bot' say 'arth round like an apple, and dat he'd stand 
one way in day time, an' 'noder way in night time. Now, what 
you t'ink of dat, Injin ?" 

The Trackless listened gravely, but he expressed neither 
assent or dissent. I knew he had a respect for both my father 
and myself; but it was asking a great deal of him to credit that 
the world was round ; nor did he understand how one could be 
turned over in the manner Jaap pretended. 

*' S'pose it so," he remarked, after a pause of reflection — 
" S'pose it so, den man stand upside down ? Man stand on 
foot ; no stand on head." 

" Worl' turn round, Injin ; dat a reason why you stand on he 
head one time ; on he foot 'noder." 

" AYho tell t'at tradition, Jaaj) ? Nebbcr heard him afore " 



THE CIIAINBEAR^R. 229 

*' Masser Corny tell nie dat, long time ago ; when I war' lit- 
tle boy. Ask Masser Mordaunt one day, and lie tell you a 
same story. Ebbery body say dat but Masser Dirck FoUock ; 
and he say to me, one time; *it true, Jaap, t'e book do say so 
— and your Masser Corny believe liim; but I want to see t'e 
worl' turn round, afore I b'lieve it.' Dat what Colonel Follock 
say, Trackless ; you know he berry honest." 

'' Good — honest man, colonel — brave warrior — true friend — 
b'lieve all he tell, when he know ; but don't know ebbery t'ing. 
Gen'ral know more^ — major young, but know more." 

Ferhaps my modesty ought to cause me to hesitate about re- 
cording that which the partiality of so good a friend as Susque- 
sus might induce him to say ; but it is my wish to be particu- 
lar, and to relate all that passed on this occasion. Jaap could 
not object to the Indian's proposition, for he had too much 
love and attachment for his two masters not to admit at once 
that they knew more than Colonel Follock ; no very extravagant 
assumption, by the way. 

" Yes, he good 'nough," answered the black, *' but he don't 
know half as much as Masser Corny, or Masser Mordaunt. He 
say worl' isn't round ; now, I t'ink he look round." 

'' AVhat Chainbearer say?" asked the Indian, suddenly, as if 
he had determined that his own opinion should be governed 
by that of a man whom he so well loved. *' Chainbearer nebber 
lie." 

"Nor do Masser Corny, nor Masser Mordaunt?" exclaimed 
Jaap, a little indignantly. "You t'ink, Trackless, e'der of my 
massers lie !" 

That was an accusation that Susquesus never intended to 
make ; though his greater intimacy with, and greater reliance 
on old Andries had, naturally enough, induced him to ask the 
question he had put. 

" No say eeder lie," answered the Onondago ; "but many 
forked tongue about, and maybe hear so, and t'ink so. Chain- 
bearer stop ear ; nebber listen to crooked tongue." 

" Well, here come Chainbearer he self, Sus ; so, jist for 



230 THE CHAINBEAUER. 

gratorfercashuiij you shall hear what 'e ole man say. It bcury 
true, Chainbearer honest man, and I Uke to know he opinion 
myself, sin' it isn't easy, Trackless, to understan' how a mortal 
being can stan' up, head down !" 

*' What ' mortal being' mean, eh ?" 

"Why, it mean mortality, Injin — you, mortality — I, mor- 
tality — Masser Corny, mortality — Masser Mordaunt, mortality — 
Miss Anneke, mortality — ebbery body, mortality ; but ebbery 
body not 'e same sort of mortality ! — TJnderstan' now, Sus?" 

The Indian shook his head, and looked perplexed ; but the 
Chainbearer coming up at that moment, that branch of the mat- 
ter in discussion was pursued no farther. After exchanging a 
few remarks about the pigeons, Jaap did not scruple to redeem 
the pledge he had given his red friend, by plunging at once 
into the main subject with the Chainbearer. 

"You know how it be wid Injin, Masser Chainbearer," said 
Jaap — " 'Ey is always poor missedercated creatur's, and knows 
nuttin' but what come by chance — nowhere be Sureflinthe can 
no way t'ink dis worl' round ; and dat it turn round, too ; and 
so he want me to ask what you got to say about dat matter?" 

Chainbearer was no scholar. Whatever may be said of Ley- 
den, and of the many, Tery many learned Dutchmen it had sent 
forth into the world, few of them ever reached America. Our 
brethren of the eastern colonies, now states, had long been 
remarkable, as a whole, for that " dangerous thing," a '* little 
learning;" but I cannot say that the Dutch of New York, also 
viewed as a whole, incurred any of those risks. To own the 
truth, it was not a very easy matter to be more profoundly igno- 
rant, on all things connected with science, than were the mass 
of the uneducated Dutch of New York, in the year of our Lord, 
one thousand seven hundred and eighty-four. It made little 
difference as to condition in life, unless one rose as high as the 
old colonial aristocracy of that stock, and an occasional excep- 
tion in favor of a family that intended to rear, or had reared in 
its bosom a minister of the gospel. Such was the strength of 
the prejudice among these people, that they distrusted tho 



THE CHAINB BARER. 201 

Englisli schools, and few permitted their children to enter them ; 
while those they possessed of their own were ordinarily of a 
very low character. These feelings were giving way before the 
influence of time it is true, but it was very slowly ; and it was 
pretty safe to infer that every man of low Dutch extraction in 
the colony was virtually uneducated, with the exception of here 
and there an individual of the higher social castes, or one that 
had been especially favored by association and circumstances. 
As for that flippant knowledge, of which our eastern neighbors 
possessed so large an amount, the New York Dutch appeared 
to view it with peculiar dislike, disdaining to know any thing, 
if it were not of the very best quality. Still, there were a few 
to whom this quality was by no means a stranger. In these 
isolated cases, the unwearied application, pains-taking industry, 
cautious appreciation of facts, and solid judgment of the parties, 
had produced a few men, who only required a theatre for its 
exhibition, in order to cause their information to command the 
profound respect of the learned, let them live where they might. 
What they did acquire was thoroughly got, though seldom 
paraded for the purposes of mere show. 

Old Andries, however, was not of the class just named. He 
belonged to the rule, and not to its exception. Beyond a ques- 
tion, he had heard all the more familiar truths of science alluded 
to in discourse, or had seen them in the pages of books ; but 
they entered into no part of his real opinions ; for he was not 
sufiiciently familiar with the diff'erent subjects to feel their truths 
in a way to incorporate them with his mind. 

"You know t'ls sait, Jaap," Chainbearer answered, *'t'at 
bot' are true. Efery poty wilt tell you so ; and all t'e folks T 
haf seen holt t'e same opinions." 

*'T'ink him true, Chainbearer?" the Onondago somewhat 
abruptly demanded. 

" I s'pose I must, Sureflint, since all say it. T'e pale faces, 
you know, reat a great many pooks, ant get to pe much wiser 
t'an ret men." 

**How you make man stan' on head, eh?" 



232 THE CHAINBEARER. 

Chaiubearer now looked over one shoulder, then over the 
other ; and fancying no one was near but the two in his frofTt, 
he was probably a little more communicative than might other 
wise have been the case. Drawing a little nearer, like one 
who is about to deal with a secret, the honest old man made his 
reply. 

"To pe frank wit' you, Sureflint," he answered, "t'at ist a 
question not easily answered. Efery poty says 'tis so, ant, 
t'erefore, I s'pose it must pe so ; put I haf often asked myself, 
if t'is worlt pe truly turned upsite town at night, how is it, olt 
Chainpearer, t'at you ton't roll out of pet? T'ere's t'ings in 
natur' t'at are incomprehensiple. Trackless ; quite incompre- 
hensiple !" 

The Indian listened gravely, and it seemed to satisfy his 
longings on the subject, to know that there were things in na- 
ture that are incomprehensible. As for the Chainbearer, I 
thought that he changed the discourse a little suddenly on ac- 
count of these very incomprehensible things in nature ; for it 
is certain he broke off on another theme, in a way to alter all 
the ideas of his companions, let them be on their heads or their 
heels. 

" Is it not true, Jaap, t'at you ant t'e Onondago, here, wast 
pot' present at t'e Injin massacre t'at took place in t'ese parts, 
pefore t'e revolution, in t'e olt French war ? I mean t'e time 
when one Traverse, a surveyor, ant a fery goot surveyor he was, 
was kil't, wit' all his chainpearers ant axe-men V 

" True as gospel, Masser Andries," returned the negro, 
looking up seriously, and shaking his head — " I was here, and 
so was Sus. Dat was de fuss time we smell gunpowder to- 
gedder. De French Injins was out in droves, and dey cut off 
Masser Traverse and all his party, no leaving half a scalp 
on a single head. Yes, sah ; I remembers dat, as if t'was last 
night." 

" Ant what was tone wit' t'e poties ? You puriet t'e poties, 
surely?" 

" Sartain — Pete, Masser Ten Eyck's man, Avas put into a 



THE OHAINBEARER. '233 

hole, near Masser Corny' s hut, which must be out here, four or 
five miles off; while masser surveyor and his men were buried 
by a spring, somewhere off yonder. Am I right, Injin ?" 

The Onondago shook his head ; then he pointed to the true 
direction to each spot that had been mentioned, showing that 
Jaap was very much out of the way. I had heard of certain 
adventures in which my father had been concerned when a 
young man, and in which, indeed, my mother had been in a 
degree an actor, but I did not know enough of the events fully 
to comprehend the discourse which succeeded. It seemed that 
the Chainbearer knew the occurrences by report only, not hav- 
ing been present at the scenes connected with them ; but he 
felt a strong desire to visit the graves of the sufferers. As yet, 
he had not even visited the hut of Mr. Traverse, the surveyor 
who had been killed ; for, the work on which he had been em- 
ployed being one of detail, or that of subdividing the great 
lots laid down before the revolution, into smaller lots, for pres- 
ent sale, it had not taken him as yet from the central point 
where it had commenced. His new assistant chainbearer was 
not eicpected to join us for a day or two ; and, after talking the 
matter over with his two companions for a few minutes, he an- 
nounced a determination to go in quest of all the graves the 
succeeding morning, with the intention of having suitable me- 
morials of their existence placed over them. 

The evening of that day was calm and delightful. As the 
sun was setting I paid Dus a visit, and found her alone in what 
she playfully called the drawing-room of her "harem." Luck- 
ily there were no mutes to prevent my entrance, the usual black 
guardian, of whom there ivas one, being still in her kitchen at 
work. I was received without embarrassment, and taking a 
seat on the threshold of the door, I sat conversing, while the 
mistress of the place plied her needle on a low chair within. 
For a time we talked of the pigeons and of our little journey 
in the woods ; after which the conversation insensibly took a 
direction toward our present situation, the past, and the future. 
I had adverted to the Chainbearer's resolution to search for the 



234 THE CHAINBEARER. 

graves ; and, at tliis point, I shall begin to record what was 
said, as it was said. 

"I have heard allusions to those melancholy events, rather 
than their history," I added. "For some cause, neither of my 
parents likes to speak of them ; though I know not the reason." 

" Their history is well known at Ravensnest," answered Dus; 
" and it is often related there ; at least, as marvels are usually 
related in country settlements. I suppose there is a grain of 
truth mixed up with a pound of error." 

" I see no reason for misrepresenting in an affair of that sort." 

"There is no other than the universal love of the marvellous, 
which causes most people to insist on having it introduced into 
a story, if it do not happen to come in legitimately. Your true 
country gossip is never satisfied with fact. He (or she would 
be the better word) insists on exercising a dull imagination at 
invention. In this case, however, from all I can learn, more 
fact and less invention has been used than common." 

We then spoke of the outlines of the story each had heard, 
and we found that, in the main, our tales agreed. In making 
the comparison, however, I found that I was disposed to dwell 
most on the horrible features of the incidents, while Dus, gently 
and almost insensibly, yet infallibly, inclined to those that were 
gentler, and which had more connection with the affections. 

" Your account is much as mine, and both must be true in 
the main, as you got yours from the principal actors," she said; 
"but our gossips relate certain points connected with love and 
marriage, about which you have been silent." 

" Let me hear them, then," I cried ; " for I never was in a 
better mood to converse of love and marriage,'''' laying a strong 
emphasis on the last word, " than at this moment !" 

The girl started, blushed, compressed her lips, and continued 
silent for half a minute. I could see that her hand trembled, 
but she was too much accustomed to extraordinary situations 
easily to lose her self-command. It was nearly dusk, too, and 
the obscurity in which she sat within the hut, which was itself 
beneath the shade of tall trees, most probably aided her efforts 



THE CHAIN BEARER. 235 

to seem unconscious. Yet, I had spoken warmly, and as I 
soon saw, in a manner tliat demanded explanation, though 
at the moment quite without plan, and Scarcely with the con- 
sciousness of what I was doing. I decided not to retreat, but 
to go on, in doing which I should merely obey an impulse that 
was getting to be too strong for much further restraint ; that 
was not the precise moment, nevertheless, in which I was re- 
solved to speak, but I waited rather for the natural course of 
things. In the mean time, after the short silence mentioned, 
the discourse continued. 

**A11 I meant," resumed Dus, "was the tradition which is 
related among your tenants, that your parents were united in 
consequence of the manner in which your father defended 
Herman Mordaunt's dwelling, his daughter included — though 
Herman Mordaunt himself preferred some English lord for his 
son-in-law, and — but I ought to repeat no more of this silly 
tale." 

"Let me hear it all, though it be the loves of my own par- 
ents." 

" I dare say it is not true ; for what vulgar report of private 
feelings and private acts ever is so ? My tradition added, that 
Miss Mordaunt was, at first, captivated by the brilliant qual- 
ities of the young lord, though she much preferred General 
Littlepage in the end ; and that her marriage has been most 
happy." 

" Your tradition, then, has not done my mother justice, but 
is faulty in many things. Your young lord was merely a 
baronet's heir ; and I know from my dear grandmother that my 
mother's attachment to my father commenced when she was 
a mere child, and was the consequence of his resenting an insult 
she received at the time from some other boy." 

*'I am glad of that!" exclaimed Dus, with an emphasis so 
marked, that I was surprised at the earnestness of her manner. 
" Second attachments in woman to me always seem misplaced. 
There was another vein to my tradition, which tells of a lady 
who lost her betrothed the night the Nest was assailed, and who 



236 THE CHAINBEARER. 

has ever since lived unmarried, true to liis memory. That is a 
part of the story I have ever loved !" 

" Was her name Wallace ?" I asked, eagerly. 

** It was ; Mary Wallace — and I have honored the name ever 
since I heard the circumstances. In my eyes, Mr. Littlepage, 
there can be no picture more respectable than that of a female 
remaining true to her first attachments, under all circumstances ; 
in death, as well as in life.'''' 

"Or in mine, beloved Ursula !" I cried — ^but, I will not 
make a fool of myself, by attempting to record what I said 
next. The fact was, that Dus had been winding herself round 
my heart for the last few weeks in a way that would have 
defied any attempts of mine to extricate it from the net into 
which it had fallen, had I the wish to do so. But I had con- 
sidered the matter, and saw no reason to desire freedom from 
the dominion of Ursula Malbone. To me, she appeared all 
that man could wish, and I saw no impediment to a union in 
the circumstance of her poverty. Her family and education 
were quite equal to my own ; and these very important consid- 
erations admitted, I had fortune enough for both. It was 
material that we should have the habits, opinions, prejudices 
if you will, of the same social caste ; but beyond this, worldly 
considerations, in my view of the matter, ought to have no in- 
fluence. 

Under such notions, therefore, and guided by the strong im- 
pulse of a generous and manly passion, I poured out my whole 
soul to Dus. I dare say I spoke a quarter of an hour without 
once being interrupted. I did not wish to hear my companion's 
voice ; for I had the humility which is said to be the insepar- 
able attendant of a true love, and was fearful that the answer 
might not be such as I could wish to hear. I could per- 
ceive, spite of the increasing obscurity, that Dus was strongly 
agitated ; and will confess a lively hope was created within 
me by this circumstance. Thus encouraged, it was natural to 
lose my fears in the wish to be more assured ; and I now pressed 
for a reply. After a brief pause, I obtained it in the following 



THE CHAINBEARER. 



237 



words, which were uttered with a tremor and sensibility that 
gave them tenfold weight. 

*' For this unexpected, and I believe sincere declaration, Mr. 
Littlepage, I thank you from the bottom of my heart," the 
precious creature commenced. '* There are a frankness, an 
honorable sincerity and a noble generosity in such a declara- 
tion, coming from you to me, that can never be forgotten. 
But, I am not my own mistress — my faith is plighted to another 
— my affections are with my faith ; and I cannot accept offers 
which, so truly generous, so truly noble, demand the most ex- 
plicit reply — " 

I heard no more ; for, springing from the floor, and an atti- 
tude that was very nearly that of being on my knees, I rushed 
from the hut and plunged into the forest. 



•-\k^ 




238 THE CHAINBEARER. 



CHAPTER XVI. 

Daha. •' Ye boys who pluck the flowers, and spoil the spring, 
Beware the secret snake that shoots a sting." 

DkYDEN's EcLOflUES. 

For tihe first half hour after I left Ursula Malbone's hut, I 
was literally unconscious of whither I was going, or of what I 
was about. I can recollect nothing but having passed quite 
near to the Onondago, who appeared desirous of speaking to 
me, but w^hom I avoided by a species of instinct rather than 
with any design. In fact, fatigue first brought me fairly to my 
senses. I had wandered miles and miles, plunging deeper and 
deeper into the wilds of the forest, and this without any aim, 
or any knowledge of even the direction in which I was going. 
Night soon came to cast its shadows on the earth, and my un- 
certain course was held amid the gloom of the hour, united to 
those of the woods. I had wearied myself by rapid walking 
over the uneven surface of the forest, and finally threw m^^self 
on the trunk of a fallen tree, willing to take some repose. 

At first, I thought of nothing, felt for nothing but the unwel- 
come circumstance that the faith of Dus was plighted to an- 
other. Had I fallen in love with Priscilla Bayard, such an 
announcement could not have occasioned the same surprise ; 
for she lived in the world, met with men of suitable educations, 
conditions and opinions, and might be supposed to have been 
brought within the influence of the attentions and sympathies 
that are wont to awaken tenderness in the female breast. With 
Dus, it had been very different : she had gone from the forest 
to the school, and returned from the school to the forest. It 
was true, that her brother, while a soldier, might have had 
some friend who admired Ursula, and whose admiration awak- 



THE CHAINBEARER. 239 

ened her youtliful sympathies, but this was only a remote prob- 
ability, and I was left burdened with a load of doubt as respect- 
ed even the character and position of my rival. 

** At any rate, he must be poor," I said to myself, the mo- 
ment I was capable of reflecting coolly on the subject, " or he 
would never have left Dus in that hut, to pass her youth amid 
chainbearers and the other rude beings of a frontier. If I 
cannot obtain her love, I may at least contribute to her happi- 
ness by using those means which a kind Providence has be- 
stowed, and enabling her to marry at once." For a little while 
I fancied my own misery would be lessened, could I only see 
Dus married and happy. This feeling did not last long, how- 
ever *,. though I trust the desire to see her happy remained after 
I became keenly conscious it would require much time to enable 
me to look on such a spectacle with composure. Nevertheless, 
the first tranquil moment, the first relieving sensation I expe- 
rienced, was from the conviction I felt that Providence had 
placed it in my power to cause Ursula and the man of her 
choice to be united. This recollection gave me even a positive 
pleasure for a little while, and I ruminated on the means of 
effecting it, literally for hours. I was still thinking of it, in- 
deed, when I threw myself on the fallen tree, where weariness 
caused me to fall into a troubled sleep, that lasted, with more 
or less of forgetfulness, several hours. The place I had chosen 
on the tree was among its branches, on which the leaves were 
still hanging, and it was not without its conveniences. 

When I awoke, it was daylight ; or, such a daylight as pene- 
trates the forest ere the sun has risen. At first I felt stiff and 
sore from the hardness of my bed ; but, on changing my atti- 
tude and sitting up, these sensations soon wore off, leaving mo 
refreshed and calm. To my great surprise, however, I found 
that a small, light blanket, such as woodmen use in summer, 
had been thrown over me, to the genial warmth of which T 
was probably indebted more than I then knew myself. This 
circumstance alarmed me at first, since it was obvious the blan- 
ket could not have come there without hands ; though a rao- 



240 T II E C II A I N B E A R E R . 

merit's reflection satisfied me that tlie tlirowing it over me, 
under the circumstances, must have been the act of a friend. 
I arose, however, to my feet, walked along the trunk of the tree 
until clear of its branches, and looked about me with a lively 
desire to ascertain who this secret friend might be. 

The place was like any other in the solitude of the forest. 
There were the usual array of the trunks of stately trees, the 
leafy canopy, the dark shadows, the long vistas, the brown and 
broken surface of the earth, and the damp coolness of the bound- 
less woods. A fine spring broke out of a hill-side quite near 
me, and looking further, with the intention to approach and use 
its water, the mystery of the blanket was at once explained. I 
saw the form of the Onondago, motionless as one of the trees 
which grew around him, leaning on his rifle, and seemingly 
gazing at some object that lay at his feet. In a minute I was 
at his side, when I discovered that he was standing over a human 
skeleton ! This was a strange and startling object to meet in 
the depth of the woods ! Man was of so little account, was so 
seldom seen in the virgin wilds of America, that one naturally 
felt more shocked at finding such a memorial of his presence 
in a place like that, than would have been the case had he 
stumbled on it amid peopled districts. As for the Indian, he 
gazed at the bones so intently that he either did not hear, or 
he totally disregarded my approach. I touched him with a 
finger before he even looked up. Glad of any excuse to avoid 
explanation of my own conduct, I eagerly seized the occasion 
oflfered by a sight so unusual, to speak of other things. 

" This has been a violent death, Sureflint," I said ; " else the 
body would not have been left unburied. The man has been 
killed in some quarrel of the red warriors." 

" Was bury," answered the Indian, without manifesting the 
least surprise at my touch, or at the sound of my voice. " Dere, 
see grave ? ' Arth wash away, and bones come out. Nuttin' 
else. Know he bury, for help bury, myself." 

"Do you, then, know any thing of this unhappy man, and 
of the cause of his death ?" 



THE CHAINBEAKEK. 241 

" Sartain ; know all 'bout him. Kill in ole French war. 
Fader here ; and Colonel Follock ; Jaap, too. Huron Mil 'em 
all ; afterward we flog Huron. Yes, dat ole story now !" 

** I have heard something of this ! This must have been the 
spot, then, where one Traverse, a surveyor, was set upon by 
the enemy, and was slain, with his chainbearers and axe-men. 
My father and his friends did find the bodies and bury them, 
after a fashion." 

"Sartain; just so; poor bury, d'ough, else he nebber come 
out of groun.' Dese bones of surveyor ; know 'em well : hab 
one leg broke, once. Dere ; you see mark." 

" Shall we dig a new grave, Susquesus, and bury the remains 
again ?" 

**Best not, now. Chainbearer mean do dat. Be here by-'m- 
bye. Got somet'ing else t'ink of now. You own all land 'bout 
here, so no need be in hurry." 

" I suppose that my father and Colonel Follock do. These 
men were slain on the estate, while running out its great lots. 
I think I have heard they had not near finished their work in 
this quarter of the patent, which was abandoned on account of 
the troubles of that day." 

" Just so ; who own mill, here, den ?" 

"There is no mill near us, Susquesus; can be no mill, as not 
an acre of the Ridge property has ever been sold or leased." 

" May be so — mill dough — not far off, needer. Know mill 
when hear him. Saw talk loud." 

"You surely do not hear the saw of a mill now, my friend. 
I can hear nothing like one." 

"No hear, now; dat true. But hear him in night. Ear 
good in night — hear great way off." 

" You are right enough there, Susquesus. „ And you fancied 
you heard the stroke of a saw, from this place, during the quiet 
and heavy air of the past night?" 

" Sartain — know well ; hear him plain enough. Isn't mile 
oft*. Out here ; find him dere." 

This was still more startling than the discovery of the skele- 
11 



242 THE CHAINBEARER. 

ton. I had a rough, general map of the patent in my pocket ; 
and on examination, I found a mill-stream ivas laid down on it, 
quite near the spot where we stood. The appearance of the 
woods, and the formation of the land, moreover, favored the 
idea of the proximity of a mill. Pine was plenty, and the hills 
were beginning to swell into something resembling mountains. 

Fasting, and the exercise I had taken, had given me a keen 
appetite ; and in one sense at least, I was not sorry to believe 
that human habitations were near. Did any persons dwell iE 
that forest, they were squatters, but I did not feel much per- 
sonal apprehension in encountering such men ; especially when 
my only present object was to ask for food. The erecting of a 
mill denoted a decided demonstration, it is true, and a littla 
reflection might have told me that its occupants would not be 
delighted by a sudden visit from the representative of the owners 
of the soil. On the other hand, however, the huts were long 
miles away, and neither Sureflint nor I had the smallest article 
of food about us. Both were hungry, though the Onondago 
professed indifference to the feeling, an unconcern I could not 
share with him, owing to habits of greater self-indulgence. 
Then I had a strong wish to solve this mystery of the mill, in 
addition to a feverish desire to awaken within me some new 
excitement, as a counterpoise to that I still keenly felt in behalf 
of my disappointed love. 

Did I not so well understand the character of my companion, 
and the great accuracy of Indian senses, I might have hesitated 
about going on what seemed to be a fool's errand. But cir- 
cumstances, that were then of recent origin, existed to give 
some countenance to the conjecture of Sureflint, if conjecture 
his precise knowledge could be called. Originally, New York 
claimed the Connecticut for a part of its eastern boundary, but 
large bodies of settlers had crossed that stream coming mainly 
from the adjacent colony of New Hampshire, and these persons 
had become formidable by their positions and numbers, some 
time anterior to the revolution. During that struggle, these 
hardy mountaineers had manifested a spirit favorable to the 



THE CHAINBEARER 243 

colonies, in the main, though every indication of an intention 
to settle their claims was met by a disposition to declare them- 
selves neutral. In a word, they were sufficiently patriotic, if 
left to do as they pleased in the matter of their possessions, but 
not sufficiently so to submit to the regular administration of 
the law. About the close of the war, the leaders of this self- 
created colony V were more than suspected of coquetting with 
the English authorities ; not that they preferred the government 
of the crown, or any other control, to their own, but because 
the times were favorable to playing off their neutrality, in this 
manner, as a means of securing themselves in the possession of 
lands to which their titles, in the ordinary way, admitted of a 
good deal of dispute, to say the least. The difficulty was by 
means disposed of by the peace of '83; but the counties that 
were then equally known by the name of Vermont and that of 
the Hampshire Grants, were existing, in one sense, as a people 
apart, not yet acknowledging the power of the confederacy ; nor 
did they come into the Union, under the constitution of 1*789, 
until all around them had done so, and the last spark of oppo- 
sition to the new system had been extinguished. 

It is a principle of moral, as well as of physical nature, that 
Ake should produce like. The right ever vindicates itself, in 
Ihe process of events, and the sins of the fathers are visited upon 
the children, even to the third and fourth generations, in their 
melancholy consequences. It was impossible that an example 
of such a wrong could be successfully exhibited on a large scale, 
without producing its deluded imitators, on another that was 
better suited to the rapacity of individual longings. It is prob- 
able Vermont has sent out, among us, two squatters, and other- 
wise lawless intruders on our vacant lands, to one of any other 
of the adjoining states, counting all in proportion to their whole 
numbers. I knew that the county of Charlotte, as Washing- 
ton was then called, was peculiarly exposed to inroads of this 
nature ; and did not feel much surprise at this prospect of meet- 
ing with some of the fruits of the seed that had been so pro- 
fusely scattered along the sides of the Green Mountains. Come 



244 THE CHAINBEARER. 

what would, however, I was determined to ascertain the facts, 
as soon as possible, with the double purpose of satisfying both 
hunger and curiosity. As for the Indian, he was passive, yield- 
ing to my decision altogether as a matter of course. 

" Since you think there is a mill, out here, west of us. Sure- 
flint," I observed, after turning the matter over in my mind, 
" I will go and search for it, if you will bear me company. You 
think you can find it, I trust, knowing the direction in which it 
stands ?" 

'' Sartain — find him easy 'nough. Find stream first — den 
find mill. Got ear — got eye — no hard to find him. Hear saw 
'fore great while." 

I acquiesced, and made a sign for my companion to proceed. 
Susquesus was a man of action, and not of words ; and, in a 
minute, he was leading the way toward a spot in the woods 
that looked as if it might contain the bed of the stream that 
was known to exist somewhere near by, since it was laid down 
on the map. 

The sort of instinct possessed by the Trackless, enabled him 
soon to find this little river. It was full of water, and had a 
gentle current ; a fact that the Indian immediately interpreted 
into a sign that the mill must be above us, since the dam would 
have checked the course of the water, had we been above that. 
Turning up stream, then, my companion moved on, with the 
same silent industry as he would have trotted along the path 
that led to his own wigwam, had he been near it. 

We had not been on the banks of the stream five minutes, 
before the Trackless came to a dead halt ; like one who had met 
an unexpected obstacle. I was soon at his side, curious to 
know the motive of this delay. 

" Soon see mill, now," Susquesus said, in answer to an in- 
quiry of mine. "Board plenty — come down stream fast as want 
him." 

Sure enough, boards were coming down, in the current of 
the river, much faster than one who was interested in the prop- 
erty would be apt to wish ; unless, indeed, he felt certain of 



THE CHAINBEARER. 245 

obtaining his share of the amount of sales. These boards were 
neither in rafts, nor in cribs ; but they came singly, or two or 
three laid together, as if some arrangement had been made to 
arrest them below, before they should reach any shoals, falls, 
or rapids. All this looked surprisingly like a regular manufac- 
ture of lumber, with a view to sales in the markets of the towns 
on the Hudson. The little stream we were on was a tributary 
of that noble river, and, once in the latter, there would be no 
very material physical obstacle to conveying the product of our 
hills over the habitable globe. 

*' This really looks like trade, Sureflint," I said, as soon as 
certain that my eyes did not deceive me. "Where there are 
boards made, men cannot be far off. Lumber, cut to order, 
does not grow in the wilderness, though the material of which 
it is made, may." 

"Mill make him. Know'd mill, when hear him. Talk 
plain 'nough. Pale-face make mill, but red man got ear to hear 
wit' !" 

This was all true enough ; and it remained to ascertain what 
was to come of it. I will acknowledge, that, when I saw those 
tell-tale boards come floating down the winding little river, I 
felt a thrilHng of the nerves, as if assured the sight would be 
succeeded by some occurrence of importance to myself. I 
knew that these lawless lumbermen bore a bad name in the 
land, and that they were generally regarded as a set of plun- 
derers, who did not hesitate to defend themselves and their 
habits, by such acts of violence and fraud as they fancied their 
circumstances justified. It is one evil of crime, where it pene- 
trates masses, that numbers are enabled to give it a gloss, and a 
seeming merit, that unsettle principles ; rendering the false true, 
in the eyes of the ignorant, and generally placing evil before 
good. This is one of the modes in which justice vindicates 
itself, under the providence of God ; the wrongs committed by 
communities reacting on themselves, in the shape of a demoral- 
ization that soon brings its own merited punishment. 

There was little time for speculation or conjecture, however ; 



246 THE CHAINBEARER. 

for, resuming our march, the next bend in the river brought 
into view a reach of the stream in which half a dozen men and 
lads were at work in the water, placing the boards in piles of 
two or three, and setting them in the current, at points favorable 
to their floating downward. Booms, connected with chains, 
kept the confused pile in a sort of basin beneath some low cliffs, 
on the margin of which stood the expected saw-mill itself. 
Here, then, was ocular proof that squatters were systematically 
at work, plundering the forests of which I was in charge, of 
their most valuable trees, and setting every thing like law and 
right at defiance. The circumstances called for great decision, 
united with the utmost circumspection. I had gone so far, that 
pride would not suffer me to retreat, had not a sense of duty to 
my father and Colonel Follock, come to mcrease the determina- 
tion to go on. 

The reader may feel some desire to know how far Dus ming- 
led with my thoughts, all this time. She was never absolutely 
out of them, though the repulse I had met in my affections 
gave an impetus to my feelings that rendered me more than 
usually disposed to enter on an adventure of hazard and wild- 
ness. If I were naught to Ursula Malbone, it mattered little 
what else became of me. This was the sentiment that was 
uppermost, and I have thought, ever since, that Susquesus had 
some insight into the condition of my feelings, and understood 
the cause of the sort of desperation with which T was about to 
rush on danger. We were, as yet, quite concealed, ourselves ; 
and the Indian profited by the circumstance, to hold a council, 
before we trusted our persons in the hands of those who might 
feel it to be their interest to make away with us, in preference 
to permitting us ever to see our friends again. In doing this, 
however, Sureflint was in no degree influenced by concern for 
himself, but solely by a desire to act as became an experienced 
warrior, on a very difficult war-path. 

*' S'pose you know," said Sureflint. " 'Em no good men — 
Varmount squatter — you t'ink own land — dey t'ink own land. 
Carry rifle and do as please. Best watch him." 



THE CIIAINBEARER. 247 

" I believe I understand you, Susquesus, and I shall be ou 
my guard, accordingly. Did you ever see cither of tliose men 
before f 

^* T'ink have. Must meet all sort of men, when he go up and 
down in 'e wood. Despret squatter, dat ole man, out yonder. 
Call himself T'ousandacre — say he alway own thousand acre 
when he have mind to find him." 

*^The gentleman must be well provided with estates! A 
thousand acres will make a very pretty homestead for a wan- 
derer, especially when he has the privilege of carrying it about 
with him, in his travels. You mean the man with gray hairs, I 
suppose — he who is half dressed in buckskin?" 

" Sartain ; dat ole T'ousandaere — nebber want land — take 
him where he find him. Bom over by great salt lake, he say, 
and been travel toward setting sun since a boy. Alway help 
himself — Hampshire Grant man, dat. But, major, why he no 
got right, well as you ?" 

*' Because our laws give him no right, while they give to the 
owner in fee, a perfect right. It is one of the conditions of the 
society in which we live, that men shall respect each other's 
property, and this is not his property, but mine — or rather, it is 
the property of my father and Colonel Follock." 
- " Best not say so, den. No need tell ebbery t'ing. No your 
land, say no your land. If he t'ink you spy, p'raps he shoot you, 
eh ? Pale-face shoot spy ; red man t'ink spy good feller !" 

*' Spies can be shot only in time of war; but, war or peace, 
you do not think these men will push matters to extremities ? 
They will be afraid of the law." 

" Law ! — What law to him ? — Nebber see law — don't go near 
law ; don't know him." 

'■'■ Well, I shall run the risk, for hunger is quite as active just 
now as curiosity and interest. There is no necessity, however, 
for your exposing yourself, Sureflint ; do you stay behind, and 
wait for the result. If I am detained, you can carry the news 
to Chainbearer, who will know where to seek me. Stay you 
here, and let me go on alone — adieu." 



248 THE CHAIN BEARER. 

Sureflint was not to be dropped in tliis manner. He said 
nothing, but the moment I began to move, he stepped quietly 
into his accustomed place, in advance, and led the way toward 
the party of squatters. There were four of these men at work 
in the river, in addition to two stout lads and the old leader, 
who, as I afterward ascertained, was very generally known by 
the sobriquet of Thousandacres. The last remained on dry land, 
doubtless imagining that his years, and his long services in the 
cause of lawlessness and social disorganization, entitled him to 
this small advantage. The evil one has his privileges, as well 
as the public. 

The first intimation our hosts received of this unexpected 
visit, came from the cracking of a dried stick on which I had 
trodden. The Indian was not quicker to interpret and observe 
that well-known sound, than the old squatter, who turned his 
head like thought, and at once saw the Onondago within a rod 
of the spot. where he himself was standing. I was close on 
the Indian's heels. At first, neither surprise nor uneasiness was 
apparent in the countenance of Thousandacres. He knew the 
Trackless, as he called Susquesus, and, though this was the first 
visit of the Indian, at that particular " location," they had often 
met in a similar manner before, and invariably with as little 
preliminary notice. So far from any thing unpleasant appear- 
ing in the countenance of the squatter, therefore, Susquesus 
was greeted with a smile, in which a certain leering expression 
of cunning was blended with that of welcome. 

"So it's only you, Trackless," exclaimed Thousand Acres, or 
Thousandacres, as I shall, in future, spell the name — "I didn't 
know but it might be a sheriff. Sitch crittur's do get out into 
the woods, sometimes, you know ; though they don't always 
get back ag'in. How come you to find us out, in this cunning 
spot, Onondago !" 

" Hear mill, in night. Saw got loud tongue. Hungry; so 
come get somet'ing to eat." 

"Waal, you've done wisely, in that partic'lar, for we never 
have been better oft' for vi't'als. Pigeons is as plenty as land 



THE CHAINBEARER. 249 

and the law liasn't got to that pass yet, as to forbid a body 
from taking pigeons, even though it be in another man's stub- 
ble. I must keep that saw better greased, nights ; though, I 
s'p'ose, a'ter all, 't was the cut of the teeth you heard, and not 
the rubbing of the plate ?" 

''Hear him all — saw got loud voice, tell you." 

"Yes, there's natur' in that. Come, we'll take this path, 
up to the house, and see what Miss Thousandacres can do for 
you. Breakfast must be ready, by this time ; and you, and 
your fri'nd, behind you, there, is wilcome to what we have, 
sitch as it is. Now, as we go along," continued the squatter, 
leading the way up the path he had mentioned — " now, as we 
go along, you can tell me the news. Trackless. This is a des- 
p'rate quiet spot ; and all the tidings we get is brought back by 
the b'ys, when they come up stream, from floating boards down 
into the river. A desp'rate sight have we got on hand, and I 
hope to hear that matters be going on so well, in Albany, that 
boards will bring suthin', soon. It's high time honest labor 
met with its reward." 

"Don't know — nebber sell board," answered the Indian — 
" nebber buy him. Don't care for board. Powder cheap, now 
'e war-path shut up. Dat good, s'pose you t'ink." 

" Waal, Trackless, I kear more for boards than for pow- 
der, I must own ; though powder's useful, too. Yes, yes ; a 
useful thing is powder, in its way. Venison and bear's meat 
are both healthy, cheap, food; and I have eaten catamount. 
Powder can be used in many ways. Who is your fri'nd, 
Trackless?" 

" Ole young fricn' — know his fader. Live in wood now, 
like us, this summer. Shoot deer like hunter." 

"He's wilcome — he's heartily wilcome! All's wilcome to 
these parts, but the landlord. You know me, Trackless — you're 
well acquainted with old Thousandacres ; and few words is 
best, among fii'nds of long standing. But, tell me, Onondago; 
have you seen any thing of the Chainbearer, and his party of 
lawless surveyors, in the woods, this summer ? The b'ys brought 



250 THE CHAINBEARER. 

up an account of his being at work, somewliere near by, this 
season, and that he's at his old tricks, ag'in !" 

" Sartain, see him. Ole Men', too, Chainbearer. Live wit' 
him, afore old French yfscr—liJce to live with him, when can. 
Good man, Chainbearer, tell you, Thousandacres. What trick 
he do, eh ?" 

The Indian spoke a little sternly, for he loved Andries too 
well to hear him disrespectfully named, without feeling some 
sort of resentment. These men, however, were too much ac- 
customed to plain dealing in their ordinary discourse, to take 
serious offence at trifles ; and the amicable sunshine of the dia- 
logue received no serious interruption from this passing cloud. 

"What trick does Chainbearer do. Trackless," answered the 
squatter — "a mortal sight of tricks, with them plaguy chains 
of his'n ! If there warn't no chains and chainbearers, there 
could be no surveyors; and, if there warn't no surveyors, there 
could be no boundaries to farms but the rifle ; which is the best 
law-maker, too, that man ever invented. The Indians want no 
surveyors. Trackless?'* 

" S'pose he don't. It he bad to measure land, will own," 
answered the conscientious Susquesus, who would not deny his 
own principles, even while he despised and condemned the man 
who now asserted them. " Nebber see anyt'ing good in meas- 
urin' land." 

" Ay, I know'd you was of the true Injin kidney !" exclaimed 
Thousandacres, exultingly, " and that's it which makes sich 
fri'nds of us squatters and you red-skins. But Chainbearer is 
at work hard by, is he. Trackless V 

" Sartain. He measure General Littlepage farni out. Whc 
your landlord, eh?" 

" Waal, I do s'pose it's this same Littlepage, and a desp'rate 
rogue all agree in callin' him." 

I started at hearing my honored and honorable father thus 
alluded to, and felt a strong disposition to resent the injury ; 
though a glance from the Indian's eye cautioned me on the sub- 
ject. I was then young, and had yet to learn that men were seldom 



THE CHAINBEARER. 251 

wronged without being calumniated. I now know tliat tliis 
practice of circulating false reports of landlords, most especially 
in relation to their titles, is very general, taking its rise in the 
hostile positions that adventurers are constantly assuming on 
their estates, in a country as unsettled and migratory as our 
own, aided by the common and vulgar passion of envy. Let 
a man travel through New York, even at this day, and lend his 
ear to the language of the discontented tavern-brawlers, and he 
>vould hardly believe there was such a thing as a good title to 
an estate of any magnitude within its borders, or a bad one to 
the farm of any occupant in possession. There is among us a 
set of deelaimers, who come from a state of society in which 
little distinction exists in either fortunes or social conditions, 
and who are incapable of even seeing, much less of appreciating 
the vast differences that are created by habits, opinions, and 
education, but who reduce all moral discrepancies to dollars 
and cents. These men invariably quarrel with all above them, 
and, with them, to quarrel is to calumniate. Leaguing with 
the disaffected, of whom there always must be some, especially 
when men are compelled to pay their debts, one of their first 
acts is to assail the title of the landlord, when there happens to 
be one in their neighborhood, by lying and slandering. There 
seems to be no exception to the rule, the practice being resorted 
to against the oldest as well as against the most recently granted 
estates among us. The lie only varies in particulars ; it is 
equally used against the titles of the old families of Yan Rens- 
selaer, Livingston, Beekman, Van Cortlandt, De Lancey, Schuy- 
ler, and others, as against the hundred new names that have 
sprung up in what is called the western counties, since the rev- 
olution. It is the lie of the Father of Lies, who varies it to 
suit circumstances and believers. *'A desp'rate rogue," all 
agree in calling the man who owns land that they desire to 
possess themselves, without being put to the unpleasant trouble 
of purchasing and paying for it. 

I so far commanded myself, however, as to make no retort 
for the injustice done my upright, beloved, and noble-minded 



252 



THE CHAINBEARER. 



father, but left his defence to the friendly feelings and sterling 
honesty of Sureflint. 

*'Not so," answered the Indian sternly. "Big lie — forked 
tongue tell dat — know gen'ral — sarve wid him — know him. 
Good warrior — honest man — dat lie. Tell him so to face." 

" Waal — wa-a-1 — I don't know," drawled out Mr. Thousand- 
acres: how those rascals will *' wa-a-1" and " I don't know," 
when they are cornered in one of their traducing tales, and are 
met face to face, as the Indian now met the squatter ! *' Wa-a-1, 
wa-a-1, I don't know, and only repeat what I have heem say. 
But here we be at the cabin, Trackless ; and I see by the smoke 
that old Prudence and her gals has been actyve this morning, 
and we shall soon get suthin* comfortable for the stomach." 

Hereupon, Mr. Thousandacres stopped at a convenient place 
by the side of the stream, and commenced washing his face and 
hands ; an operation that was now performed for the first time 
that day. 




THE CHAINBEAREK. 253 



CHAPTER XVII. 

" lie stepped before the monarch's chair, 
And stood with rustic plainness there, 

And little reverence made ; 
Nor head, nor body, bowed nor bent. 
But on the desk his arm he leant. 
And words like these he said." 

Marmion. 

AVhile the squatter Avas thus occupied in arranging his toilet, 
previously to taking his morning meal, I had a moment of 
leisure to look about in. "We had ascended to the level of the 
mill, where was an open, half-cleared space, of some sixty acres 
in extent, that was under a rade cultivation. Stubs and stumps 
abounded, and the fences were of logs, showing that the occu- 
pancy was still of recent date. In fact, as I afterward ascer- 
tained, Thousandacres, with his family of hopeful sons and 
daughters, numbering in all more than twenty souls, had squat- 
ted at that spot just four years before. The mill-seat was 
admirable, nature having done for it nearly all that was required, 
though the mill itself was as unartificial and make-shift as such 
a constraction very well could be. Agriculture evidently occu- 
pied very little of the time of the family, which titled just 
enough land "to make a live on't," while every thing in the 
shape of lumber was " improved" to the utmost. A vast num- 
ber of noble pines had been felled, and boards and shingles 
were to be seen in profusion on every side. A few of the first 
were being sent to market, in order to meet the demands of 
the moment, in the way of groceries ; but the intention was to 
wait for the rise in the little stream, after the fall-rains, in order 
to send the bulk of the property into the common artery of the 



204 THE CHAINBEAUER. 

Hudson, and to reap the great reward of the toil of the summer 
and spring. 

I saw, also, that there must be additions to this family, in the 
way of marriage, as they occupied no less than five cabins, all 
of which were of logs, freshly erected, and had an air of com- 
fort and stability about them, that one would not have expected 
to meet where the title was so flimsy. All this, as I fancied, 
indicated a design not to remove very soon. It was probable 
that some of the oldest of the sons and daughters were married, 
and that the patriarch was already beholding a new generation 
of squatters springing up about him. A few of the young men 
were visible, lounging about the different cabins, and the mill 
was sending forth that peculiar, cutting, grating sound, that had 
so distinctly attracted the attention of Susquesus, even in the 
depths of the forest. 

"Walk in, Trackless," cried Thousandacres, in a hearty, 
free manner, which proved that what came easily went as free- 
ly; "walk in, fri'nd; I don't know your name, but that's no 
great matter, where there's enough for all, and a wilcome in the 
bargain. Here's the old woman, ready and willing to sarve 
you, and looking as smiling as a gal of fifteen. 

The last part of this statement, however, was not precisely 
accurate. "Miss Thousandacres," as the squatter sometimes 
magnificently called his consort, or the dam of his young brood, 
was far from receiving us with either smiles or welcomes. A 
sharp-featured, keen, gray-eyed old woman, her thoughts were 
chiefly bent on the cares of her brood ; and her charities ex- 
tended little beyond them. She had been the mother of four- 
teen children herself, twelve of which survived. All had been 
born amid the difficulties, privations and solitudes of stolen 
abodes in the wilderness. That woman had endured enough 
to break down the constitutions and to destroy the tempers of 
half a dozen of the ordinary beings of her sex ; yet she sur- 
vived, the same enduring, hard-working, self-denying, suf- 
fering creature she had been from the day of her bloom and 
beauty. These two last words might be supposed to be used 



THE CHAINBEARER. 255 

in mockery, could one have seen old Prudence, sallow, attenu- 
ated, with sunken cheeks, hollow, lack-lustre eyes, and broken- 
mouthed, as I now saw her ; but there were the remains of great 
beauty, notwithstanding, about the woman ; and I afterward 
learned that she had once been among the fairest of the fair, 
in her native mountains. In all the intercourse I subsequently 
had with her family, the manner of this woman was anxious, 
distrustful, watchful, and bore a strong resemblance to that of 
the dam that is overseeing the welfare of her cubs. As to her 
welcome at the board, it was neither hearty nor otherwise ; it 
being so much a matter of course for the American to share 
his meal with the stranger, that little is said or thought of the 
boon. 

Notwithstanding the size of the family of Thousandacres, the 
cabin in which he dwelt was not crowded. The younger chil- 
dren of the settlement, ranging between the ages of four and 
twelve, appeared to be distributed among all the habitations 
indifferently, putting into the dishes wherever there was an 
opening, much as pigs thrust themselves in at any opening at 
a trough. The business of eating commenced simultaneously 
throughout the whole settlement. Prudence having blown a 
blast upon a conch-shell, as the signal. I was too hungry to 
lose any time in discourse, and set to, with the most hearty 
good will, upon the coarse fare, the moment there was an op- 
portunity. My example was imitated by all around our own 
particular board, it being the refined and intellectual only, who 
habitually converse at their meals. The animal had too great a 
preponderance among the squatters, to leave them an exception 
to the rule. 

At length, the common hunger was appeased, and I could 
see that those who sat around began to examine me with a little 
more curiosity than they had previously manifested. There 
was nothing in the fashion of my attire to excite suspicion, per- 
haps, though I did feel some little concern on account of its 
quality. In that day, the social classes were broadly distin- 
guished by dress, no man even affecting to assume the ward- 



256 THE CIIAINBEARER. 

robe of a gentleman, without having certain pretensions to the 
character. In the woods, however, it was the custom to throw 
aside every thing like finery, and I wore the hunting-shirt 
already mentioned, as my outer garment. The articles most 
likely to betray my station in life were beneath this fortunat 
covering, and might escape observation. Then our party was 
small, consisting, besides the parents and the two guests, of 
only one young man, and one young woman, of about the ages 
of tAvo-and-twenty and sixteen, whom the mother addressed as 
Zcphaniah and Lowiny, the latter being one of the very com- 
mon American corruptions of some fine name taken from a 
book — Lavinia, quite likely.* These two young persons de- 
ported themselves with great modesty at the table, old Thou- 
sandacres and his wife, spite of their lawless lives, having 
maintained a good deal of the ancient Puritan discipline among 
their descendants, in relation to things of this nature. Indeed, 
I was struck with the singular contrast between the habitual 
attention that was paid by all in the settlement to certain ap- 
pearances of the sort, and that certainty which every one must 
have possessed that they were living daily in the commission 
of offences opposed not only to the laws of the land, but to the 
common, inherent convictions of right. In this particular, 
they exhibited what is often found in life, the remains of ancient 
habits and principles, existing in the shape of habits, long after 
the substance that had produced them had disappeared. 

" Have you asked these folks about Chainbearer ?" said Pru- 
dence abruptly, as soon as the knives and forks were laid down, 
and while we still continued in our seats at the table. " I feel 



* The commoner dialect of New England is as distinct from tlie language of the rest 
of the republic, cases of New England descent excepted, as those of many of the English 
counties are from that of London. One of the peculiarities of the former, is to pro- 
nounce the final a of a word, like y ; calling America, Ameriky ; Utica, Utiky; Ithaca, 
Ithaky. Thus, Lavinia would be very apt to be pronounced Lavinny, Lavyny, or 
Lowiny. As there is a marked ambition for fine names, the effect of these corrup- 
tions on a practised ear is somewhat ludicrous. The rest of the nation is quite freo 
from the peculiarity. Foreigners often mistake New Englandisms for Americanisms ; 
the energy, importance, and prominency of the people of the former portion of the 
sountry, giving them an influence that is disproportioned to their numbers. 



THE CHAIN BE ARE R.- 257 

a consarn of mind, about tliat man, that I never feel about any 
other." 

*' Near fear Chainbearer, woman," answered the husband. 
" He's got his summer's work afore him, without coming near 
us. By the last accounts, this young Littlepage, that the old 
rogue of a father has sent into the country, has got him out in 
his own settlement ; where he'll be apt to keep him, I calcerlate, 
till cold weather sets in. Let me once get off all the lumber 
we've cut, and sell it, and I kear very little about Chainbearer, 
or his master." 

" This is bold talk, Aaron ; but jist remember how often we've 
squatted, and how often we've been driven to move. I s'pose 
I'm talking afore fri'nds, in sayin' what I do." 

" No fear of any here, wife. Trackless is an old acquaintance, 
and has as little relish for law- titles, as any on us; and his fri'nd 
is mcr fri'nd." I confess, that I felt a little uncomfortable, at 
this remark ; but the squatter going on with his conversation, 
there was no opportunity for saying any thing, had I been so 
disposed. " As for moving," continued the husband, *' I never 
mov'd, but twice," without getting pay for my betterments. 
Now, I call that a good business, for a man who has squatted 
no less than seventeen times. If the worst comes to the worst, 
we're young enough to make an eighteenth pitch. So that I 
save the lumber, I keer but little for your Littlepages or Great- 
pages ; the mill is no great matter, without the gear ; and that 
has travelled all the way from Yarmount, as it is, and is used 
to moving. It can go farther." 

" Yes, but the lumber, Aaron ! The water's low now, and 
you can never get it to market, until the rivers rise, which 
mayn't be these three months. Think how many days' labor 
that lumber has cost you, and all on us, and what a sight of it 
there would be to lose !" , 

** Yes, but we wunt lose it, woman," answered Thousand- 
acres, compressing his lips, and clenching his hands, in a way 
to show how intensely he felt on the subject of property himself, 
however dishonestly acquired. " My sweat and labor be in them 



258 THE CHAIN B BARER. 

boards ; and it's as good as sap, any day. Wliat a man sweats 
for, lie has a right to." 

This was somewhat loose morality, it is true, since a man 
might sweat in bearing away his neighbor's goods ; but a por- 
tion of the human race is a good deal disposed to feel and 
reason on principles but little more sound than this of old 
Thousandacres. 

*' Wa-a-ll," answered the woman, " I'm sure I don't want to 
to see you and the b'ys lose the fruits of your labors ; not I. 
You've honestly toiled and wrought at 'em logs, in a way I 
never seed human beings outdo ; and 'twould be hard," look- 
ing particularly at me, *'now that they've cut the trees, hauled 
'em to mill, and sawed the boards, to see another man step in 
and claim all the property. That could never be right, but is 
ag'in all justice, whether Varmount or York. I s'pose there's 
no great harm in jist askin' what your name may be, young 
man ?" 

" None in the world," I answered, with a self-command 
that I could see delighted the Onondago. *' My name is Mor- 
daunt." 

"Mordaunt!" repeated the woman, quickly. ''Don't we 
know suthin' of that name ? — Is that a fri'ndly name, to us Var- 
mounters? — How is it, Aaron? you ought to know." 

" No, I hadn't ought to, for I never heerd tell of any sich 
name afore. So long as 'tisn't Littlepage, I kear nothin' about 
it." 

I felt relieved at this reply, for I will own, that the idea of 
falling into the power of these lawless men was far from pleas- 
ant to me. From Thousandacres, down to the lad of seven- 
teen, they all stood six feet in their stockings ; and a stouter, 
more broad-shouldered, sinewy race, was not often seen. The 
idea of resisting them by force, was out of the question. I was 
entirely without arms ; though the Indian was better provided ; 
but no less than four rifles were laid on brackets in this one 
cabin ; and I made no doubt that every male of the family had 
his own particular weapon. The rifle was the first necessary of 



THE CIIAINBEARER. 259 

men of ttis stamp, being as serviceable in procumig food as in 
protecting them from their enemies. 

It was at this moment that Prudence drew a long sigh, and 
rose from table in order to renew her domestic labors. Lowiny 
followed her motions in submissive silence, and we men saun- 
tered to the door of the cabin, where I could get a new view 
of the nature of those "betterments" that Thousandacres so 
highly prized, and of the extent of the depredations that had 
been committed on Colonel FoUock and my father. The last 
were by no means insignificant ; and, at a later day, they were 
estimated, by competent judges, to amount to fully a thousand 
dollars in value. Of course these were a thousand dollars 
totally lost, inasmuch as redress, in a pecuniary sense, was en- 
tirely out of the question with men of the stamp of Thousand- 
acres and his sons. This class of persons are fond of saying, 
"I'll guarantee," and 'Til bind myself to do this or that; 
but the guaranty and obligation are equally without value. In 
fact, those who are the least responsible are usually the freest 
with such pledges. 

" This is a handsome spot," said Thousandacres, whose real 
name was Aaron Timberman. **This is a handsome spot, Mr. 
Mordaunt, and one it would go kind o' hard to give it up at the 
biddin* of a man who never laid eye on't. Be you any way 
acquainted with law V 

" A very little ; no more than we all get to be as we move 
along through life." 

*'YouVe not travelled far on that journey, young man, as 
any one can see by your face. But you've had opportunities, 
as a body can tell by your speech, which isn't exactly like 
our'n, out here in the woods, from which I had kind o' thought 
your schooHn' might be more than common. A body can tell, 
though his own I'arnin' amounts to no great matter." 

This notion of Aaron's, that my modes of speech, pronuncia- 
tion, accent and utterance had come from the schools, was 
natural enough, perhaps ; though few persons ever acquire ac- 
curacy in either, except in the familiar intercourse of their 



260 THE CHAIN BEARER. 

cMldhood. As for the " common schools" of New York, they 
are perpetuating errors in these respects, rather than correcting 
them ; and one of the largest steps in their improvement would 
be to have a care that he who teaches, teaches accurately as to 
sounds, as well as to significations. Under the present system, 
vicious habits are confirmed by deliberate instruction and ex-, 
ample rather than corrected. 

" My schooling," I answered, modestly enough, I trust, " has 
been a little better than common, though it has not been good 
enough, as you see, to keep me out of the woods." 

^' All that may be inclination. Some folks have a nat'ral turn 
for the wilderness, and it's workin' agin' the grain, and nearly 
useless, to try to make settlement-bodies of 'em. D'ye happen 
to know what lumber is likely to bring this fall ?" 

"Every thing is looking up since the peace, and it is fair to 
expect lumber will begin to command a price, as well as other 
property." 

" Wa-a-I, it's time it should ! During the whuU war a board 
has been of little more account than a strip of bark, unless it 
happened to be in the neighborhood of an army. We lum- 
bermen have had an awful time on it these last eight years, and 
more than once I've felt tempted to gi'n in, and go and settle 
down in some clearin', like quieter folks ; but I thought as the 
'arth is to come to an eend, the war must sartainly come to an 
eend afore it." 

*' The calculation was a pretty safe one ; the war must have 
truly made a dull time to you ; nor do I see how you well got 
along during the period it lasted." 

" Bad enough; though war-times has their wind-falls as well 
as peace-times. Once, the inimy seized a sight of continental 
stores, sich as pork, and flour, and New England rum, and they 
pressed all the teams, far and near, to carry off their plunder, 
and my sleigh and horses had to go along with the rest on 'em. 
Waal, go we did ; and I got as handsome a load as ever you 
seed laid in a lumber-sleigh ; Avhat I call an assortment, and one. 
too, that was mightily to my own likin', seein' I loaded it up 



THE CHAINBEARER. 2G1 

with my own liands. 'Twas in a woody country, as you may 
'spose, or I wouldn't liave been there ; and, as I know'd all 
the by-roads, I watched my chance, and got out of the line 
without being seen, and druv' as straight to my own hum' as 
if I'd just come from tradin' in the nearest settlement. That 
was the most profitablest journey I ever tuck, and what is more, 
it was a short one." 

Here old Thousandacres stopped to laugh, which he did in 
as hearty, frank a manner as if his conscience had never known 
care. This story, I fancy, was a favorite with him, for I heard 
no less than three other allusions to the exploit on which it was 
based, during the short time our communication with each 
other lasted. I observed the first smile I had seen on the face 
of Zephaniah, appear at the recital of this anecdote ; though I 
had not failed to notice that the young man, as fine a specimen 
of rustic, rude, manly proportions as one could wish to see, had 
kept his eyes on me at every occasion, in a manner that excited 
some uneasiness. 

*'That was a fortunate service for you," I remarked, as 
soon as Aaron had had his laugh; ''unless, indeed, you felt 
the necessity of giving back the property to the continental 
officers." 

'* Not a bit of it ! Congress was poor enough, I'm willin' to 
own, but it was richer than I was, or ever will be. When prop- 
erty has changed hands once, title goes with it ; and some say 
that these very lands, coming from the king, ought now to go 
to the people, jist as folks happen to want 'em. There's reason 
and right, I'm sartain, in the idee, and I shouldn't wonder if it 
held good in law, one day !" 

Alas! alas! for poor human nature again. Seldom does 
man commit a wrong but he sets his ingenuity to work to frame 
excuses for it. When his mind thus gets to be perverted by 
the influence of his passions, and more especially by that of 
rapacity, he never fails to fancy new principles to exist to favor 
his schemes, and manifests a readiness in inventing them^ which, 
enlisted on the side of goodness, might render him a blessing 



262 THE CIIAINBEARER. 

instead of a curse to Ms race. But roguery is so active, while 
virtue is so apt to be passive, that in the eternal conflict that is 
waged between them, that which is gained by the truth and 
inherent power of the last is, half the time, more than neutral- 
ized by the unwearied exertions of the first ! This, I fear, may 
be found to contain the weak spot of our institutions. So long 
as law represents the authority of an individual, individual 
pride and jealousy may stimulate it to constant watchfulness ; 
whereas, law representing the community, carries with it a 
divided responsibility, that needs the excitement of intolerable 
abuses ere it will arouse itself in its own vindication. The 
result is merely another proof that, in the management of the 
ordinaiy affairs of life, men are usually found to be stronger 
than principles. 

*' Have you ever had occasion to try one of your titles of pos- 
session in a court of law, against that of a landholder who got 
his right from a grant?" I asked, after reflecting a moment on 
the truth I have just narrated. 

Thousandacrcs shook his head, looked down a moment, and 
pondered a little, in his turn, ere he gave me the following 
answer : 

"Sartain," he said. "We all like to be on the right side, 
if we can ; and some of our folks kind o' persuaded me I might 
make out, once, ag'in a reg'lar landlord. So I stood trial with 
him ; but he beat me, Mr. Mordaunt, just the same as if I had 
been a chicken, and he the hawk that had me in his talons. 
You'll never catch me trusting myself in the claws of the law 
ag'in, though that happened as long ago as afore the old French 
war. I shall never trust to law any more. It may do for them 
that's rich, and don't kear whether they win or lose ; but law 
is a desp'rate bad business for them that hasn't got money to go 
into it, right eend foremost." 

"And, should Mr. Littlepage discover your being here, and 
feel disposed to come to some arrangement with you, what con- 
ditions would you be apt to accept?" 

" Oh ! I'm never ag'in trade. Trade's the spirit of life ; and 



THE CHAINBEARER. 263 

scein' that Gin'ral Littlepage has some right, as I do s'pose is 
the case, I shouldn't want to be hard on him. If he would 
keep things quiet, and not make a fuss about it, but would 
leave the matter out to men, and they men of the right sort, 
I shouldn't be difficult ; for I'm one of that kind that hates 
lawsuits, and am always ready to do the right thing ; and so 
he'd find me as ready to settle as any man he ever had on his 
lands." 

" But on what terms ? You have not told me the terms." 

*' As to tarms, I'd not be hard, by any means. No man can 
say old Thousandacres ever druv' hard tarms, when he had the 
best on't. That's not in my natur', which runs altogether 
toward reason and what's right. Now you see, Mordaunt, 
how matters stand atween this Littlepage and myself. He's 
got a paper title, they tell me, and I've got possession, which 
is always a squatter's claim ; and a good one 'tis, where there's 
plenty of pine and a mill-seat, with a handy market!" 

Here Thousandacres stopped to laugh again, for he gen- 
erally indulged in this way, in so hearty and deep a tone, as 
to render it difficult to laugh and talk in the same breath. 
As soon as through, however, he did not forget to pursue the 
discourse. 

** No, no man that understands the woods will gainsay them 
advantages," added the squatter; *' and of all on 'em am I now 
in the enj'yment. Wa-a-1, Gin'ral Littlepage, as they call him 
about here, has a paper title ; and I've got possession. He has 
the courts on his side, I'll allow ; but here are my betterments 
— sixty-three as large acres chopped over and hauled to mill, as 
can be found in all Charlotte, or "Washington, as they tell me 
the county is now called." 

" But General Littlepage may not fancy it an improvement 
to have his land stripped of its pine. You know. Thousand- 
acres, as well as I do, that pine is usually thought to greatly 
add to the value of lands hereabouts, the Hudson making it so 
easy to get it to market." 

"Lord! youngster, do you think I hadn't all that in my 



264 THE CHAINBEARER. 

mind, when I made my pitcli liere ? You can't teacli old 
bones where it's best to strike the first blow with an axe. Now, 
I've got in the creek" (this word is used, in the parlance of 
the state, for a small river, nine times in ten) ; " now, I've got 
in the creek^ on the way to the Hudson, in the booms below 
the mill, and in the mill-yard yonder, a hundred and twenty 
thousand feet of as handsome stuff as ever was cribbed, or 
rafted; and there's logs enough cut and hauled to make more 
than as much more. I some sort o' think you know this Little- 
page, by your talk ; and, as I like fair dealin's, and what's right 
atween man and man, I'll just tell you what I'll do, so that you 
can tell him, if you ever meet, and the matter should come up 
atween you, as sich things sometimes do, in all talk like, though 
a body has no real consarn in the afiair ; and so you can tell 
this gin'ral that old Thousandacres is a reasonable man, and is 
willing to settle on these tarms ; but he won't gi'n a grain 
more. If the gin'ral will let me get all the lumber to market 
peaceably, and take off the crops the b'ys have put in with their 
own hands, and carry off all the mill-gear, and take down the 
doors and windows of the houses, and all the iron-work a body 
can find about, I'm willing to agree to quit 'arly enough in the 
spring to let any man he chooses come into possession in good 
season to get in spring grain, and make garden. There ; them's 
my tarms, and I'll not abate on one on 'em, on no account at 
all. But that much I'll do for peace ; for I do love peace and 
quiet, my woman says, most desp'ately." 

I was about to answer this characteristic communication — 
perfectly characteristic as to feelings, one-sided sense of right, 
principles and language — when Zephaniah, the tall son of the 
squatter, suddenly laid a hand on his father's arm, and led him 
aside. This young man had been examining my person, dur- 
mg the whole of the dialogue at the door of the cabin, in a way 
that was a little marked. I was disposed at first to attribute 
these attentions to the curiosity natural to youth, at its first 
meeting with one who might be supposed to enjoy opportuni- 
ties of ascertaining the newest modes of dress and deportment. 



THE CHAINBKAKER. 265 

Rustics, in America, ever manifest tliis feeling, and it was not 
unreasonable to suppose that this young squatter might have 
felt its influence. But, as it soon appeared, I had altogether 
mistaken my man. Although both he and his sister, Lowiny, 
had never turned their eyes from my person, I soon discovered 
that they had been governed by totally opposing feelings. 

The first intimation I got of the nature of the mistake into 
which I had fallen, was from the manner of Thousandacres, as 
soon as his son had spoken to him,, apart, for a single minute. 
I observed that the old squatter turned suddenly, and began to 
scrutinize my appearance with a scowling, but sharp eye. Then 
he would give all his attention to his son ; after which, I came 
in for a new turn of examination. Of course, such a scene 
could not last a great while, and I soon felt the relief of being, 
again, face to face with the man whom I now set down for an 
enemy, 

" Harkee, young man," resumed Thousandacres, as soon as 
he had returned and placed himself directly before me, " my 
b'y, Zeph, there, has got a suspicion consarning you, that must 
be cleared up, fairly atween us, afore we part. I like fair 
dealin's, as I've told you more than once, already, and despise 
nnderhandedness from the bottom of my heart. Zeph tells me 
that he has a kind o* suspicion that you're the son of this very 
Littlepage, and have been sent among us to spy us out, and to 
I'arn how things stood, afore you let on your evil intentions. Is 
it so, or not ?" 

"What reason has Zeph for such a suspicion?" I answered, 
with such coolness as I could assume. *' He is a perfect stran- 
ger to me, and I fancy this is the first time we have ever met." 

" He agrees to that, himself; but mankind can sometimes 
see things that isn't put directly afore their eyes. My son goes 
and comes, frequently, between the Ravensnest settlement and 
our own, though I don't suppose he lets on any great deal about 
his proper hum' — He has worked as much as two months, at a 
time, in that part of the country, and I find him useful in carry- 
ing on a little trade, once and awhile, with 'Squire Newcome." 
12 



206 THE CHAINBEARER. 

** You are acquainted, then, with Mr. Jason Newcome, or 
'Squire Newcome, as you call him ?" 

"I call him what's right, I hope!" answered the old man 
sharply. " He is a 'squire, and should be called a 'squire. 
Give the devil his due ; that's my principle. But Zephaniah has 
been out a considerable spell this summer to work at Ravens- 
nest. I tell him he has a gal in his eye, by his hankering so 
much after the 'Nest folks, but he won't own it : but out he 
has been, and he tells me this Littlepage's son was expected to 
come into the settlement about the time he last left there." 

** And you are acquainted with 'Squire Newcome ?" I said, 
pursuing the subject as its points presented themselves to my 
own mind, rather than following the thread of the squatter's 
discursive manner of thinking; *' so well acquainted as to trade 
with him ?" 

"Sartain; tvell acquainted I may say. The 'Squire tuck 
(took) all the lumber I cut 'arly in the spring, rafting and selling 
it on his own account, paying us in groceries, women's cloth, 
and rum. He made a good job of it, I hear tell, and is han- 
kerin' round a'ter what is now in the creek ; but I rather think 
I'll send the b'ys off with that. But what's that to the purpose? 
Didn't you tell me, young man, that your name is Mordaunt?" 

" I did ; and in so saying I told no more than the truth." 

*' And what may you call your given name ? A'ter all, old 
woman," turning to the anxious wife and mother, who had 
drawn near to listen, having most probably been made acquainted 
Avith the nature of her son's suspicions — " a'ter all the b'y may 
be mistaken, and this young man as innocent as any one of 
your own flesh and blood." 

" Mordaunt is what you call my * given name,' I answered, 
disdaining deception, " and Littlepage — " The hand of the 
Indian was suddenly placed on my mouth, stopping further 
utterance." 

It was too late, however, for the friendly design of the Onon- 
dago, the squatters readily comprehending all I had intended 
to say. As for Prudence, she walked away ; and I soon heard 



THE CHAINBEARER. 267 

her calling all her younger children by name, to collect them 
near her person, as the hen gathers its chickens beneath the 
wing. Thousandacres took the matter very differently. His 
countenance grew dark, and he whispered a word to Lowiny, 
who departed on some errand with reluctant steps, as I thought, 
and eyes that did not always look in the direction she was 
walking. 

" I see how it is ! I see how it is !" exclaimed the squatter, 
with as much of suppressed indignation in his voice and mien 
as if his cause were that of offended innocence; "we've got a 
spy among us, and war-time's too fresh not to let us know how 
to deal with sich folks. Young man, what's your arr'nd down 
here, in my betterments, and beneath my ruff?" 

" My errand, as you call it, Thousandacres, is to look after 
the property that is entrusted to my care. I am the son of 
General Littlepage, one of the owners of this spot, and the 
attorney of both." 

'* Oh ! an attorney, be you ?" cried the squatter, mistaking 
the attorney in fact for an attorney at law — a sort of being for 
whom he necessarily entertained a professional antipathy. 
"I'll attorney ye! If you or your gin'ral father thinks that 
Aaron Thousandacres is a man to have his territories invaded 
by the inimy, and keep his hands in his pockets the whull time, 
he's mistaken. Send 'em along, Lowiny, send along the b'ys, 
and let's see if we can't find lodgin's for this young attorney 
gin'ral, as well as board." 

There was no mistaking the aspect of things now. Hostili- 
ties had commenced in a certain sense, and it became incum- 
bent on me for the sake of safety to be on the alert. I knew 
that the Indian was armed; and, determined to defend my per- 
son if possible, I was resolved to avail myself of the use of his 
weapon should it become necessary. Stretching out an arm, 
and turning to the spot where Susquesus had just stood, to lay 
hold of his rifle, I discovered that he had disappeared. 



268 THE CHAINBEARKR. 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

*' The lawless herd, with fury blind, 
Have done him cruel wrong ; 
The flowers are gone, but still we find. 
The honey on his tongue." 

COWPEB. 

There I stood, alone and unarmed, in the centre of six 
atHetic men — for Lowiny had been sent to assemble her brothers, 
a business in which she was aided by Prudence's blowing a 
peculiar sort of blast on her conch — and as unable to resist as 
a child would have been in the hands of its parent. As a fruit- 
less scuffle would have been degrading, as well as useless, I at 
once determined to submit, temporarily at least, or so long as 
submission did not infer disgrace, and was better than resistance. 
There did not seem to be any immediate disposition to lay 
violent hands on me, however, and there I stood, a minute or 
two, after I had missed Sureflint, surrounded by the whole 
brood of the squatter, young and old, male and female ; some 
looking defiance, others troubled, and all anxious. As for my- 
self, I will frankly own my sensations were far from pleasant ; 
for I knew I was in the hands of the Philistines, in the depths 
of a forest, fully twenty miles from any settlement, and with 
no friends nearer than the party of the Chainbearer, who was at 
least two leagues distant, and altogether ignorant of my posi- 
tion as well as of my necessities. A ray of hope, however, 
gleamed in upon me through the probable agency of the Onon- 
dago. 

Not for an instant did I imagine that long-known and well- 
tried friend of my father and the Chainbearer false. His char- 
acter was too well established for that ; and it soon occurred to 
me, that, foreseeing his own probable detention should he re- 



THE CHAINBEARER. 269 

main, lie had vanislied with a design to let the strait in which 
I was placed be known, and to lead a party to my rescue. A 
similar idea probably struck Thousandacres almost at the same 
instant ; for glancing his eye around him, he suddenly de- 
manded — 

" What has become of the red-skin ? The varmint has dodged 
away, as I'm an honest man ! Nathaniel, Moses and Daniel, 
to your rifles and on the trail. Bring the fellow in, if you can, 
with a whuU skin ; but if you can't, an Injin more or less will 
never be heeded in the woods." 

I soon had occasion to note that the patriarchal government 
of Thousandacres was of a somewhat decided and prompt 
character. A few words went a great way in it, as was now 
apparent ; for in less than two minutes after Aaron had issued 
his decree, those namesakes of the prophets and lawgivers of 
old, Nathaniel and Moses, and Daniel, were quitting the clear- 
ing on diverging lines, each carrying a formidable, long, Amer- 
ican hunting-rifle in his hand. This weapon, so different in the 
degree of its power from the short military piece that has be- 
come known to modern warfare, was certainly in dangerous 
hands ; for each of those young men had been familiar with his 
rifle from boyhood ; gunpowder and liquor, with a little lead, 
composing nearly all the articles on which they lavished money 
for their amusement. I trembled for. Susquesus ; though I 
knew he must anticipate a pursuit, and was so well skilled in 
throwing off" a chase as to have obtained the name of the Track- 
less. Still, the odds were against him ; and experience has 
shown that the white man usually surpasses the Indian even in 
his own peculiar practices, when there have been opportunities 
to be taught. I could do no more, however, than utter a men 
tal prayer for the escape of my friend. 

"Bring that chap in here," added old Thousandacres sternly, 
the moment he saw that his three sons were off; enough re- 
maining to enforce that or any other order ho might choose to 
issue. '' Bring him into this room, and let us hold a court on 
him, sin' he is sich a lover of the law. If law he likes, law let 



270 THE CHAINBEARER. 

him Lave. An attorney, is he ? I warnt to know ! WLa* 
has an attorney to do with me and mine, out here in the 
woods?" 

While this was in the course of being said, the squatter, and 
father of squatters, led the way into his own cabin, where he 
seated himself with an air of authority, causing the females and 
younger males of his brood to range themselves in a circle be- 
hind his chair. Seeing the folly of resistance, at a hint from 
Zephaniah I followed, the three young men occupying the place 
near the door, as a species of guard. In this manner we formed 
a sort of court, in which the old fellow figured as the investiga- 
ting magistrate, and I figured as the criminal. 

"An attorney, be you!" muttered Thousandacres, whose ire 
against me in my supposed, would seem to be more excited 
than it was against me in my real character. "B'ys, silence in 
the court ; we'll give this chap as much law as he can stagger 
under, sin' he's of a law natur.' Every thing shall be done 
accordin' to rule. Tobit," addressing his oldest son, a colossal 
figure of about six-and-twenty, " you've been in the law more 
than any on us, and can give us the word. What was't they 
did with you, first, when they had you up in Hampshire colony ; 
the time when you and that other young man went across from 
the Varmount settlements to look for sheep ? A raft of the 
crittur's you did get atween you, though you ivas waylaid and 
robbed of all your hard 'amin's, afore you got back ag'in in the 
mountains. They dealt with you accordin' to law, 'twas said ; 
now, what was the first thing done ?" 

'*I was tuck [taken] afore the 'squire," answered Tobit Thou- 
sandacres, as he was often called, *' who heerd the case, asked 
me what I had to say for myself, and then permitted me, as it 
was tarmed ; so I went to gaol until the trial came on, and I 
s'pose you know what come next, as well as I do." 

I took it for granted that what " come next" was any thing 
but pleasant in remembrance, the reason Tobit did not relish it 
even in description, inasmuch as sheep-stealers were very apt 
to get "forty save one" at the whipping-post, m that day, a 



THE CHAINBEARER. 2*71 

species of pimisliment that was admirably adapted to the par- 
ticular offence. We are getting among us a set of soi-disant 
philanthropists, who, in their great desire to coddle and reform 
rogues, are fast placing the punishment of oflences on the 
honest portion of the community, for the especial benefit of 
their eVeves. Some of these persons have already succeeded in 
cutting down all our whipping-posts, thereby destroying the 
cheapest and best mode of punishing a particular class of crimes 
that was ever intended or practised. A generation hence, our 
children will feel the consequences of this mistaken philan- 
thropy. In that day, let those who own fowl-houses, pig-pens, 
orchards, smoke-houses, and other similar temptations to small 
depredations, look to it, for I am greatly mistaken if the inse- 
curity of their movables does not give the most unanswerable 
of all commentaries on this capital misstep. One whipping- 
post, discreetly used, will do more toward reforming a neigh- 
borhood than a hundred gaols, with their twenty and thirty 
days' imprisonment !* I have as much disposition to care for 
the reformation of criminals as is healthful, if I know myself ; 
but the great object of all the punishments of society, viz., its 
own security, ought never to be sacrificed to this, which is but 
a secondary consideration. Render character, person and prop- 
erty as secure as possible, in the first place, after which, try as 
many experiments in philanthropy as you please. 

I am sorry to see how far the disposition to economize is 
extending itself, in the administration of American justice, gen- 
erally. Under a government like that of this country, it is 
worse than idle, for it is perfectly futile to attempt to gratify 
the imagination by a display of its power, through the agency 
of pomp and representation. Such things, doubtless, have 

* Mr. Mordaunt Li ttlepage writes here Avith prophetic accuracy. Small deprcila- 
tions of this nature have got to be so very common, that few now think of resorting 
to the law for redress. Instead of furnishing the prompt and useful punishment that 
was administered by our fathers, the law is as much adorned with its cavillings and 
delays in the minor as in the more important cases; and it often takes years to 
bring a small depredator even to trial, if he can find money to fee a sagacious lawyer 
—Editor. 



272 THE CIIAINB BARER. 

their uses, and are not to be senselessly condemned until one 
has had an opportunity of taking near views of their effects ; 
though useful, or the reverse, they can never succeed here. 
But these communities of ours have it in their power to furnish 
to the world a far more illustrious example of human prescience, 
and benevolent care, by their prompt, exact, and well-considered 
administration of justice — including the cases both in the civil 
and the criminal courts. With what pride might not the 
American retort, when derided for the simplicity of his execu- 
tive, and the smallness of the national expenditure in matters 
of mere representation, could he only say — " True, we waste 
nothing on mere parade ; but, turn to the courts, and to the 
justice of the country ; which, after all, are the great aim of 
every good government. Look at the liberality of our expend- 
itures for the command of the highest talent, in the first place ; 
see with Avhat generous care we furnish judges in abundance, 
to prevent them from being overworked, and to avoid ruinous 
delays to suitors ; then turn to the criminal courts, and into, 
first, the entire justice of the laws ; next, the care had in the 
selection of jurors; the thorough impartiality of all the proceed- 
ings ; and, finally, when the right demands it, the prompt, un- 
erring, and almost terrific majesty of punishment.'^ But, to 
return to something that is a good deal more like truth : — 

"Yes, yes," rejoined Thousandacres, "there is no use in 
riling the feelin's, by talking of ihat^'' — (meaning Tobit's suf- 
ferings, not at the stake, but at the post;) — "a hint's as good 
as a description. You was taken afore a magistrate, was you ; 
— and he permitted you to prison — but he asked what you had 
to say for yourself, first ? That was only fair, and I mean to 
act it all out here, accordin' to law. Come, young attorney, 
what have i/ou got to say for yourself?" 

It struck me that, alone as I was, in the hands of men 
who were a species of outlaws, it might be well to clear myself 
from every imputation that, at least, was not merited. 

" In the first place," I answered, " I will explain a mistake 
into which you have fallen, Thousandacres ; for, let us live 



THE CIIAINBEARER. 2*73 

as friends or foes, it is always best to understand facts. I am 
not an attorney, in the sense you imagine — I am not a law- 
yer." 

I could see that the whole brood of squatters. Prudence in- 
cluded, was a good deal mollified by this declaration. As for 
Lowiny, her handsome, ruddy face actually expressed exultation 
and delight ! I thought I heard that girl half suppress some 
such exclamation as — "I know'd he wasn't no lawyer!" As 
for Tobit, the scowling look, replete with cat-o'-nine-tails, 
actually departed, temporarily at least. In short, this announce- 
ment produced a manifest change for the better. 

*'No lawyer a'ter all!" exclaimed Thousandacres — "Didn'l 
you say you was an attorney ?" 

'' That much is true. I told you that I was the son of 
General Littlepage, and that I was his attorney, and that of 
Colonel Follock, the other tenant in common of this estate ; 
meaning that I held their power of attorney io convey lands, and 
to transact certain other business, in their names.'* 

This caused me to lose almost as much ground as I had just 
gained, though, being the literal truth, I was resolved neither 
to conceal, nor to attempt to evade it. 

" Goo^ land !" murmured Lowiny. *'Why couldn't the 
man say nothin' about all that?" 

A reproving look from Prudence, rebuked the girl, and she 
remained silent afterward, for some time. 

" A power of attorney, is it !" rejoined the squatter. *' Wa-a-1, 
that's not much better than being a downright lawyer. It's 
having the power of an attorney, I s'pose, and without their 
accursed power it's little I should kear for any of the breed. 
Then you're the son of that Gin'ral Littlepage, which is next 
thing to being the man himself. I should expect if Tobit, my 
oldest b'y, was to fall into the hands of some that might be 
named, it would go hard with him, all the same as if t'was 
myself. I know that some make a difference atween parents 
and children, but other some doesn't. What's that you said 
about this gin'ral's only being a common tenant of this land? 



274 THE CHAINBEARER. 

How dares lie to call himself its owner, if he's only a common 
tenant?" 

The reader is not to be surprised at Thousandacres' trifling 
blunders of this sort ; for, those whose rule of right is present 
interest, frequently, in the eagerness of rapacity, fall into this 
very kind of error ; holding that cheap at one moment, which 
they affect to deem sacred at the next. I dare say, if the old 
squatter had held a lease of the spot he occupied, he would at 
once have viewed the character and rights of a " common ten- 
ant," as connected with two of the most important interests of 
the country. It happened, now, however, that it was "his bull 
that was goring our ox." 

*' How dares he to call himself the owner of the sile, when 
he's only a common tenant, I say ?" repeated Thousandacres, 
with increasing energy, when he found I did not answer im- 
mediately. 

*' You have misunderstood my meaning. I did not say that 
my father was only a * common tenant' of this property, but 
that he and Colonel Follock own it absolutely in common, each 
having his right in every acre, and not one owning one half 
while the other owns the other ; which is what the law terms 
being 'tenants in common,' though strictly owners in fee.'* 

*' I shouldn't wonder, Tobit, if he turns out to be an attor- 
ney, in our meaning, a'ter all !" 

" It looks desp'rately like it, father," answered the eldest 
born, who might have been well termed the heir at law of all his 
progenitor's squatting and fierce propensities. **If he isn't a 
downright lawyer, he looks more like one than any man I ever 
seed out of court, in my whull life." 

"He'll find his match! Law and I have been at logger- 
heads ever sin' the day I first went into Varmount, or them 
plaguy Hampshire Grants. When law gets me in its clutches, 
it's no wonder if it gets the best on't ; but, when I get law in 
mine, or one of its sarvants, it shall be my fault if law doesn't 
come out second best. Wa-a-l, we've heerd the young man's 
story, Tobit. I've asked him what he had to say for himself, 



THE CHAINBEAREB. 27o 

and he lias g'in us his tell — tell'd us how he's his own father^s 
son, and that the gin'ral is some sort of a big tenant, instead of 
being a landlord, and isn't much better than we are ourselves ; 
and it's high time I permitted him to custody. You had 
writin's for what they did to you, I dares to say, Tobit?" 

^'Sartain. The magistrate give the sheriffs deputy a per - 
mittimus, and on the strength of that, they permitted me to 
gaol." 

** Ye-e-es — I know all about their niceties and appearances ! 
I have had dealin's afore many a magistrate, in my day, and 
have onsuited many a chap that thought to get the best on't 
afore we begun ! Onsuiting the man that brings the suit, is the 
cleanest way of getting out of the law, as I knows on ; but it 
takes a desp'rate long head sometimes to do it ! Afore I per- 
mit this young man, I'll show writin's, too. Prudence, just 
onlock the drawer — " 

"I wish to correct one mistake before you proceed further," 
interrupted I. *' For the second time, I tell you I am no law- 
yer, in any sense of the word. I am a soldier — have com- 
manded a company in General Littlepage's own regiment, and 
served with the army when only a boy in years. I saw both 
Burgoyne and Cornwallis surrender, and their troops lay down 
their arms." 

" Good now ! Who'd ha' thought it !" exclaimed the com- 
{)assionate Lowiny. ''And he so young, that you'd hardly 
think the wind had ever blown on him !" 

My announcement of this new character was not without a 
marked effect. Fighting was a thing to the whole family's taste, 
and what they could appreciate better, perhaps, than any other 
act or deed. There was something warlike in Thousandacres' 
very countenance and air, and I was not mistaken in supposing 
he might feel some little sympathy for a soldier. He eyed me 
keenly ; and whether or not he discovered signs of the truth of 
my assertion in my mien, I saw that he once more relented in 
purpose. 

*' You out ao'in Burg'yne !" the old fellow exclaimed. " Can 



270 THE CHAINBEARER. 

I believe what you say? Why, I was out ag'in Burg'yne rny« 
self, with Tobit and Moses, and Nathaniel and Jedediah — with 
every male crittur' of the family, in short, that was big enough 
to load and fire. I count them days as among my very best, 
though they did come late, and a'ter old age had made some 
head ag'in me. How can you prove you was out ag'in Burg'yne 
and Cornwallis ?" 

I knew that there was often a strange medley of soi-disant 
patriotic feeling mixed up with the most confirmed knavery in 
ordinary matters, and saw I had touched a chord that might 
thrill on the sympathies of even these rude and supremely self- 
ish beings. The patriotism of such men, indeed, is nothing 
but an enlargement of selfishness, since they prize things be- 
cause they belong to themselves, or they, in one sense, belong 
to the things. They take sides with themselves, but never with 
principles. That patriotism alone is pure, which would keep 
the country in the paths of truth, honor and justice ; and no 
man is empowered, in his zeal for his particular nation, any 
more than in his zeal, for himself, to forget the law of right. 

"I cannot prove I was out against Burgoyne, standing here 
where I am, certainly," I answered; "but give me an oppor- 
tunity, and I will show it to your entire satisfaction." 

"Which rijiment was on the right, Hazen's or Brookes's, in 
storming the Jarmans ? Tell me tha,t, and I will soon let you 
know whether I believe you or not." 

" I cannot tell you that fact, for I was with my own battalion, 
and the smoke would not permit such a thing to be seen. I do 
not know that either of the corps you mention was in that par- 
ticular part of the field that day, though I believe both to have 
been warmly engaged." 

" He warnt there," drawled out Tobit, in his most dissatisfied 
manner, almost showing his teeth, like a dog, under the impulse 
of the hatred he felt. 

"He was there!" cried Lo winy, positively ; "I hnow he 
was there !" 

A slap from Prudence taught the girl the merit of silence ; 



TEE CII AINBE ARER. 277 

but the men were too much interested to heed an interruption 
as characteristic and as bootless as this. 

^'I see how it is," added Thousandacres ; " I must permit 
the chap a'ter all. Seein', however, that there is a chance of 
his having been out ag'in Burg'yne, I'll permit him zoithout 
writin's, and he shan't be bound. Tobit, take your prisoner 
away, and shut him up in the store'us'. When your brothers 
get back from their hunt a'ter the Injin, we'll detarmine among 
us what is to be done with him." 

Thousandacres delivered his orders with dignity, and they 
were obeyed to the letter. I made no resistance, since it would 
only have led to a scuffle, in which I should have sustained the 
indignity of defeat, to say nothing of personal injuries. Tobit, 
however, did not offer personal violence, contenting himself 
with making a sign for me to follow him, which I did, followed 
in turn by his two double-jointed brothers. I will acknowledge 
that, as we proceeded toward my prison, the thought of flight 
crossed my mind ; and I might have attempted it, but for the 
perfect certainty that, with so many on my heels, I must have 
been overtaken, when severe punishment would probably have 
been my lot. On the whole, I thought it best to submit for 
a time, and trust the future to Providence. As to remon- 
strance or deprecation, pride forbade my having recourse to 
cither. I was not yet reduced so low as to solicit favors from a 
squatter. 

The gaol to which I was " permitted" by Thousandacres was 
a storehouse, or, as he pronounced the word, a ''store'us," 
of logs, which had been made of suflficient strength to resist 
depredations, let them come from whom they might, and they 
were quite as likely to come from some within as from any 
without. In consequence of its destination, the building was 
not ill-suited to become a gaol. The logs, of course, gave a 
sufficient security against the attempts of a prisoner without 
tools or implements of any sort, the roof being made of the 
same materials as the sides. There was no window, abundance 
of air and light entering through the fissures of the rough logs. 



278 THE CIIAINBEAREU. 

wliicli liad open intervals between tliem ; and the only artificial 
aperture was the door. This last was made of stout planks, 
and was well secured by heavy hinges, and strong bolts and 
locks. The building was of some size, too — twenty feet in 
length at least — one end of it, though then quite empty, hav- 
ing been intended and used as a crib for the grain that we 
Americans call, 'par excellence^ corn. Into this building I en- 
tered, after having the large knife that most woodsmen carry 
taken from my pocket ; and a search was made on my person 
for any similar implement that might aid me in an attempt to 
escape. 

In that day America had no paper money, from the bay of 
Hudson to Cape Horn. Gold and silver formed the currency, 
and my pockets had a liberal supply of both, in the shape of 
joes and half-joes, dollars, halves, and quarters. Not a piece 
of coin, of any sort, was molested, however, these squatters 
not being robbers, in the ordinary signification of the term, but 
merely deluded citizens, who appropriated the property of 
others to their own use, agreeably to certain great principles of 
morals that had grown up under their own peculiar relations to 
the rest of mankind, their immediate necessities and their con- 
venience. I make no doubt that every member of the family 
of Thousandacres would spurn the idea of his or her being a 
vulgar thief, drawing some such distinctions in the premises as 
the Drakes, Morgans, Woodes, Rogers, and others of that 
school, drew between themselves and the vulgar every-day sea- 
robbers of the seventeenth century, though with far less rea- 
son. But robbers these squatters were not, except in one 
mode, and that mode they almost raised to the dignity of re- 
spectable hostilities, by the scale on which they transacted 
business. 

I was no sooner " locked up" than I began a survey of my 
prison and the surrounding objects. There was no difficulty 
in doing either, the opening between the logs allowing of a clear 
reconnoissance on every side. With a view to keeping its con- 
tents in open sight, I fancy, the " store' us" was placed in the 



THE CHAIN BEARER. 279 

very centre of tli3 Settlement, having the mills, cabins, barns, 
sheds and other houses, encircling it in a sort of hamlet. This 
circumstance, which would render escape doubly difficult, was, 
notwithstanding, greatly in favor of reconnoitring. I will now 
describe the results of my observations. As a matter of course, 
my appearance, the announcement of my character, and my 
subsequent arrest, were circumstances likely to produce a sensa- 
tion in the family of the squatter. All the women had gath- 
ered around Prudence, near the door of her cabin, and the 
younger girls were attracted to that spot, as the particles of 
matter are known to obey the laws of affinity. The males, one 
boy of eight or ten years excepted, were collected near the 
mill, where Thousandacres, apparently, was holding a consulta- 
tion with Tobit and the rest of the brotherhood, among whom, 
I fancy, was no one entitled to be termed an angel. Every 
body seemed to be intently listening to the different speakers, 
the females often turning their eyes toward their male protec- 
tors, anxiously and with long protracted gazes. Indeed, many 
of them looked in that direction, even while they gave ear to 
the wisdom of Prudence herself. 

The excepted boy had laid himself, in a lounging, American 
sort of an attitude, on a saw-log near my prison, and in a posi- 
tion that enabled him to see both sides of it, without changing 
his ground. By the manner in which his eyes were fastened on 
the *' store'us " I was soon satisfied that he was acting in the 
character of a sentinel. Thus, my gaol was certainly sufficiently 
secure, as the force of no man, unaided and without imple- 
ments, could have broken a passage through the logs. 

Having thus taken a look at the general aspect of things, I 
had leisure to reflect on my situation, and the probable conse- 
quences of my arrest. For my life I had no great apprehen 
sions, not as much as I ought to have had, under the circum- 
stances ; but it did not strike me that I was in any great danger 
on that score. The American character, in general, is not blood- 
thirsty, and that of New England less so, perhaps, than that of 
the rest of the country. Nevertheless, in a case of property, 



280 THE CHAINBEARER. 

the tenacity of the men of that quarter of t^ie country was pro- 
verbial, and I came to the conclusion that I should be detained, 
if possible, until all the lumber could be got to market and dis- 
posed of, as the only means of reaping the fruit of past labor. 
The possibility depended on the escape or the arrest of Sure- 
flint. Should that Indian be taken, Thousandacres and his 
family would be as secure as ever in their wilderness ; but on 
the other hand, should he escape, I might expect to hear from 
my friends in the course of the day. By resorting to a requi- 
sition on 'Squire Newcome, who was a magistrate, my tenants 
might be expected to make an effort in my behalf, when the 
only grounds of apprehension would be the consequences of the 
struggle. The squatters were sometimes dangerous under ex- 
citement, and when sustaining each other, with arms in their 
hands, in what they fancy to be their hard-earned privileges. 
There is no end to the delusions of men on such subjects, self- 
interest seeming completely to blind their sense of right ; and I 
have often met with cases in which parties who were trespassers, 
and in a moral view, robbers, ah origine, have got really to fancy 
that their subsequent labors (every new blow of the axe being 
an additional wrong) gave a sort of sanctity to possessions, in 
the defence of which they were willing to die. It is scarcely 
necessary to say that such persons look only at themselves, en- 
tirely disregarding the rights of others ; but one wonders where 
the fruits of all the religious instruction of the country are to be 
found, when opinions so loose and acts so flagrant are constantly 
occurring among us. The fact is, land is so abundant, and 
such vast bodies lie neglected and seemingly forgotten by their 
owners, that the needy are apt to think indifference authorizes 
invasions on such unoccupied property ; and their own labor 
once applied, they are quick to imagine that it gives them a 
moral and legal interest in the soil ; though in the eye of the 
law, and of unbiased reason, each new step taken in what is 
called the improvement of a *' betterment" is but a farther ad- 
vance in the direction of wrong-doing. 

I was reflecting on things of this sort, when, looking through 



THE CIIAINBEARER. 281 

the cracks of my prison, to ascertain tlie state of matters with- 
out, I was surprised by the appearance of a man on horseback, 
who was entering the clearing on its eastern side, seemingly 
quite at home in his course, though he was travelling without a 
footpath to aid him. As this man had a pair of the common 
saddle-bags of the day on his horse, I at first took him for one 
of those practitioners of the healing art who are constantly met 
with in the new settlements, winding their way through stumps, 
logs, morasses and forests, the ministers of good or evil, I shall 
not pretend to say which. Ordinarily, families like that of 
Thousandacres do their own " doctoring ;" but a case might 
occur that demanded the wisdom of the licensed leech ; and I 
had just decided in my own mind that this must be one, when, 
as the stranger drew nearer, to my surprise I saw that it was 
no other than my late agent, Mr. Jason Newcome, and the 
moral and physical factotum of Ravensnest ! 

As the distance between the mill that 'Squire Newcome leased 
of me, and that which Thousandacres had set up on the prop- 
erty of Mooseridge, could not be less than five-and-twenty miles, 
the arrival of this visitor at an hour so early was a certain proof 
that he had left his own house long before the dawn. It was 
probably convenient to pass through the farms and dwellings of 
Ravensnest on the errand on. which he was now bent, at an hour 
of the night or morning when darkness would conceal the move- 
ment. By timing his departure with the same judgment, it 
was obvious he could reach home under the concealment of the 
other end of the same mantle. In a word, this visit was evi- 
dently one, in the objects and incidents of which it was intended 
that the world at large should have no share. 

The dialogues between the members of the family of Thou- 
sandacres ceased, the moment 'Squire Newcome came in view ; 
though, as was apparent by the unmoved manner in which his 
approach was witnessed, the sudden appearance of this particu- 
lar visitor produced neither surprise nor uneasiness. Although 
it must have been a thing to be desired by the squatters, to 
deep their *' location" a secret, more especially since the peace 



282 THE Cli AINBE ARER. 

left landlords at leisure to look after their lands, no one mani- 
fested any concern at discovering this arrival in their clearing 
of the nearest magistrate. Any one might see, by the manner 
of men, women and children, that 'Squire Newcome was no 
stranger, and that his presence gave them no alarm. Even the 
early hour of this visit was most probably that to which they 
were accustomed, the quick-witted intellects of the young fry 
causing them to understand the reason quite as readily as was 
the case with their seniors. In a word, the guest was regarded 
as a friend, rather than as an enemy. 

JSTewcome was some little time, after he came into view, in 
reaching the hamlet, if the cluster of buildings can be so termed; 
and when he did alight, it was before the door of a stable, 
toward which one of the boys now scampered, to be in readi- 
ness to receive his horse. The beast disposed of, the 'squire 
advanced to the spot where Thousandacres and his elder sons 
still remained to receive him, or that near the mill. The man- 
ner in which all parties shook hands, and the cordiality of the 
salutations generally, in which Prudence and her daughters soon 
shared, betokened something more than amity, I fancied, for it 
looked very much like intimacy. 

Jason Newcome remained in the family group some eight or 
ten minutes, and I could almost fancy the prescribed inquiries 
about the "folks" (an ff lice, folk), the *' general state of health," 
and the character of the "times," ere the magistrate and the 
squatter separated themselves from the rest of the party, walking 
aside like men who had matters of moment to discuss, and that 
under circumstances which could dispense with the presence of 
any listeners. 



THK CHAINBEARER. 283 



CHAPTER XIX. 

" Peculiar both ! 

Our soil's strong growth 
And our bold natives' hardy mind ; 
Sure heaven bespoke 
Our hearts and oak 
To give a master to mankind." 

YOUNO. 

Thousandacres and the magistrate held their way directly 
toward the storehouse ; and the log of the sentinel offering a 
comfortable seat, that functionary was dismissed, when the two 
worthies took his place, with their backs turned toward my 
prison. Whether this disposition of their persons was owing 
to a deep-laid plan of the squatter's, or not, I never knew ; but, 
let the cause have been what it might, the effect was, to render 
me an auditor of nearly all that passed in the dialogue which 
succeeded. It will greatly aid the reader in understanding the 
incidents about to be recorded, if I spread on the record the 
language that passed between my late agent and one who was 
obviously his confidant in certain matters, if not in all that 
touched my interests in that quarter of the world. As for Hs- 
tening, I have no hesitation in avowing it, inasmuch as the cir- 
cumstances would have justified me in taking far greater liberties 
with the customary obligations of society in its every-day aspect, 
had I seen fit so to do. I was dealing with rogues, who had 
me in their power, and there was no obligation to be particu- 
larly scrupulous on the score of mere conventional propriety, at 
least. 

*"As I was tellin' ye, Thousandacres," Newcome continued 
the discourse by saying, and that with the familiarity of one 
who well knew his companion, ** the young man is in this part 



284 THE CIIAINBEARKK. 

of the country, and somewhere quite near you at this moment" 
— I was much nearer than the 'squire himself had any notion 
of at that instant — " yes, he's out in the woods of this very 
property, with Chainbearer and his gang ; and, for 'tinow [for 
aught I know], measuring out farms within a mile or two of this 
very spot !" 

" How many men be there ?" asked the squatter with interest. 
"If no more than the usual set, 't will be an onlucky day for 
them, should they stumble on my clearin' I" 

"Perhaps they will, perhaps they wunt; a body never 
knows. Surveyin' 's a sort o' work that leads a man here, or 
it leads him there. One never knows where a line will carry 
him, in the woods. That's the reason I've kept the crittur's out 
of my own timber-land ; for, to speak to you, Thousandacres, 
as one neighbor can speak to another without risk, there's des- 
p'rate large pine-trees on the unleased hills both north and east 
of my lot. Sometimes it's handy to have lines about a mill, 
you know, sometimes 't isn't." 

" A curse on all lines, in a free country, say I, 'squire," an- 
swered Thousandacres, who looked, as he bestowed this char- 
acteristic benediction, as if he might better be named Tewthou- 
sandacres ; " they're an invention of the devil. I lived seven 
whuU years in Varmount state, as it's now called, the old 
Hampshire Grants, you know, next-door neighbor to two fami- 
lies, one north and one south on me, and we chopped away the 
whull time, jest as freely as we pleased, and not a cross word or 
an angry look passed atween us." 

" 1 rather conclude, friend Aaron, you had all sat down un- 
der the same title ?" put in the magistrate, with a sly look at 
his companion. "When that is the case, it would exceed all 
reason to quarrel." 

" Why, I'll own that our titles were pretty much the same ; 
— possession and free axes. Then it was ag'in York colony 
landholders that our time was running. What's your candid 
opinion about law, on this p'int, 'Squire Newcome ? — I know 
you're a man of edication, college I'arnt some say ; thougli, I 



THE CHAINBEARER. 285 

s'pose, that's no better rarnin' than any other, when a body has 
once got it — but what's your opinion about possession ?— Will 
it hold good for twenty-one years, without writin's, or not? 
Some say it will, and some say it wunt." 

"It wunt. The law is settled; there must be a shadow of 
title, or possession's good for nothin'; no better than the scrapin's 
of a flour-barrel." 

" I've heer'n say the opposyte of that ; and there's reason 
why possession should count ag'in every thing. By possession, 
however, I don't mean hangin' up a pair of saddle-bags on a 
tree, as is sometimes done, but goin' honestly and fairly in 
upon land, and cuttin' down trees, and buildin' mills, and 
housen and barns, and cuttin', and slashin', and sawin' right 
and left, like all creation. Thais what I always doos myself, 
and that's what I call sich a possession as ought to stand in law 
— ay, and in gospel, too ; for I'm not one of them that flies in 
the face of religion." 

" In that you're quite right ; keep the gospel on your side 
whatever you do, neighbor Thousandacres. Our Puritan fathers 
didn't cross the ocean, and encounter the horrors of the wilder- 
ness, and step on the rock of Plymouth, and undergo more 
than man could possibly bear, and that all for nothin' !" 

" Wa-a-1, to my notion, the 'horrors of the wilderness,' as 
you call 'em, is no great matter; though, as for crossin' the 
ocean, 1 can easily imagine that must be suthin' to try a man's 
patience and endurance. I never could take to the water. 
They tell me there isn't a single tree growin' the whull distance 
atween Ameriky and England ! Floatin' saw-logs be sometimes 
met with, I've heer'n say, but not a standin' crittur' of a tree 
from Massachusetts Bay to London town !" 

" It's all water, and of course trees be scarce, Thousandacres; 
but let's come a little clusser to the p'int. As I was tellin' you, 
the whelp is in, and he'll growl as loud as the old bear himself, 
should he hear of all them boards you've got in the creek — to 
say nothin' of the piles up here that you haven't begun to put 
into the water." 



286 THE CIIAINBEARER. 

** Let him growl," returned tlie old squatter, glancing surlily 
toward my prison ; "like a good many other crittur's that I've 
met with, 't will turn out that his bark is worse than his bite." 

" I don't know that, neighbor Thousandacres, I don't by 
any means know that. Major Littlepage is a gentleman of 
spirit and decision, as is to be seen by his having taken his 
agency from me, who have held it so long, and gi'n it to a 
young chap who has no other claim than bein' a tolerable sur- 
veyor ; but who hasn't been in the settlement more than a 
twelvemonth." 

" Gi'n it to a surveyor ! Is he one of Chainbearcr's measur- 
in' devils ?" 

"Just so; 't is the very young fellow Chainbearer has had 
with him this year or so, runnin' lines and measurin' land on 
this very property." 

"That old fellow, Chainbearer, had best look to himself! 
He's thwarted me noAV three times in the course of his life, 
and he's gettin' to be desp'rate old ; I'm afeard he won't live 
long !" 

I could now see that Squire Newcome felt uneasy. Although 
a colleague of the squatter's in what is only too apt to be con- 
sidered a venal roguery in a new country, or in the stealing of 
timber, it did not at all comport with the scale of his rascality 
to menace a man's lifei* He would connive at stealing timber 
by purchasing the lumber at sufficiently low prices, so long as 
the danger of being detected was kept within reasonable limits, 
but he did not like to be connected with any transaction that 
did not, in the case of necessity, admit of a tolerably safe retreat 
from all pains and penalties. Men become very much what — 
not their laws — but what the administration of their laws makes 
them. In countries in which it is prompt, sure, and sufficiently 
severe, crimes are mainly the fruits of temptation and necessi- 
ty; but a state of society may exist, in which justice falls into 
contempt by her own impotency, and men are led to offend 
merely to brave her. Thus we have long labored under the 
great disadvantage of living under laws that, in a great degree, 



THE C U A I N B E A R E II . 28V 

were framed for another set of circumstances. By the common 
law it was only trespass to cut down a tree in England ; for trees 
were seldom or never stolen, and the law did not wish to annex 
the penalties of felony to the simple offence of cutting a twig in 
a wood. With us, however, entire new classes of offences have 
sprung up under our own novel circumstances ; and we probably 
owe a portion of the vast amount of timber-stealing that has 
now long existed among us, quite as much to the mistaken 
lenity of the laws, as to the fact that this particular description 
of property is so much exposed. Many a man would commit 
a trespass of the gravest sort, who would shrink from the com- 
mission of a felony of the lowest. Such was the case with New- 
come. He had a certain sort of law-honesty about him, that 
enabled him in a degree to preserve appearances. It is true 
he connived at the unlawful cutting of timber by purchasing the 
sawed lumber, but he took good care, at the same time, not to 
have any such direct connection with the strictly illegal part of 
the transaction, as to involve him in the penalties of the law. 
Had timber- stealing been felony, he would have often been an 
accessory before the act ; but in a case of misdemeanor, the law 
knows no such offence. Purchasing the sawed lumber, too, if 
done with proper precaution, owing to the glorious subterfuges 
permitted by ''the perfection of reason," was an affair of no 
personal hazard in a criminal point of view, and even admitted 
of so many expedients as to leave the question of property a 
very open one, after the boards were fully in his own possession. 
The object of his present visit to the clearing of Thousandacres, 
as the reader will most probably have anticipated, was to profit 
by my supposed proximity, and to frighten the squatter into a 
sale on such terms as should leave larger profits than common 
in the hands of the purchaser. Unfortunately for the success 
of this upright project, my proximity was so much greater than 
even Squire Newcome supposed, as to put it in danger by the 
very excess of the thing that was to produce the result desired. 
Little did the honest magistrate suppose that I was, the whole 
time, within twenty feet of him, and that I heard all tliat passed. 



288 THE CHAINBEARER. 

** Chaiiibearer is about seventy," returned Newcome, after 
musing a moment on the character of liis companion's la^ re- 
mark. " Yes, about seventy, I should judge from what I've 
heerd, and what I know of the man. It's a good old age, but 
folks often live years and years beyond it. You must be suthin' 
like that yourself, Thousandacres ?" 

"Seventy-three, every day and hour on't, 'squire; and days 
and hours well drawn out, too. If you count by old style, I 
b'lieve I'm a month or so older. But I'm not Chainbearer. 
No man can say of me, that I ever made myself troublesome to 
a neighborhood. No man can p'int to the time when I ever 
disturbed his lines. No man can tell of the day when I ever 
went into court to be a witness on such a small matter as the 
length or breadth of lots, to breed quarrels atween neighbors. 
No, 'Squire Newcome, I set store by my character, which 
will bear comparison with that of any other inhabitant of the 
woods I ever met with. And what I say of myself I can say 
of my sons and da'ghters, too — from Tobit down to Sampson, 
from Nab to Jeruthy. We're what I call a reasonable and rec- 
oncilable breed, minding our own business, and having a re- 
spect for that of other people. Now, here am I, in my seventy- 
fourth year, and the father of twelve living children, and I've 
iriade, in my time, many and many a pitch on't, but never was 
I known to pitch on land that another man had in possession : 
— and I carry my idees of possession farther than most folks, 
too, for I call it possession to have said openly, and afore wit • 
nesses, that a man intends to pitch on any partic'lar spot afore 
next ploughin' or droppin' time, as the case may be. No, I 
respect possession, which ought to be the only lawful title to 
property, in a free country. When a man wants a clearin' or 
wants to make one, my doctrine is, let him look about him, 
and make his pitch on calcerlation ; and when he's tired of the 
spot, and wants a change, let him sell his betterments, if he 
lights of a chap, and if he doos'nt, let him leave 'em open, and 
clear off all incumbrances, for the next comer." 

It is probable that Jason Newcome, Esq. — magistrates m 



THE CHAIN BE ARE R. ' 289 

America are extremely tenacious of this title, though they have 
no more right to it than any one else— but Jason Newcome, 
Esq.,* did not carry his notions of the rights of squatters, and 
of the sacred character of possession, quite as far as did his 
friend Thousandacres. Newcome was an exceedingly selfish, 
but withal, an exceedingly shrewd man. I do not know that 
the term clever, in its broadest signification, would fitly apply 
lo him, for in that sense, I conceive, it means quickness and in- 
telligence enough to do what is right ; but he was fully entitled 
to receive it, under that qualification by which we say a man is 
'* a clever rogue," In a word, Mr. Newcome understood him- 
self, and his relations to the community in which he lived, too 
well to fall into very serious mistakes by a direct dereliction 
from his duties, though he lived in a never-ceasing condition of 
small divergencies that might at any time lead him into serious 
diflSculties. Nevertheless, it was easy enough to see he had no 
relish for Thousandacres' allusions to the termination of the days 
of my excellent old friend, Chainbearer ; nor can I say that they 
gave me any particukr concern, for, while I knew how desper- 
ate the squatters sometimes became, I had a notion that this old 

* In order to understand Mr. Littlepage in what lie says of "esquires," a word of ex- 
planation uiay be necessary. The term "esquire " is, as every well-informed person 
knows, a title of honor, standing next in degree below that of kni^-ht On the conti- 
nent of Europe the " 6cuyer " properly infers nobility, I believe, as nobility is there 
considered, which is little if any more than the condition of the old English gentry, or 
of the families having coat-armor. By the English law, certain persons are boriies- 
quires, and others have the rank caj officio. Among the last is a justice of the peace, 
who is legally an " esquire " during his official term. Now, this rule prevailed in the 
colonies, and American magistrates v/ere, perhaps legally, esquires, as well as the Eng- 
lish. But titles of honor were abolished at the revolution, and it is a singular con- 
tradiction, in substance, to hold that the principle is destroyed while the" incident 
remains. The rank of esquire can no more legally exist in America, than that of 
knight. In one sense, neither is noble, it is true; but in that broad signification by 
which all constitutions are, or ought to be interpreted both would come within the 
proscribed category, as set forth in art. 7th, sect. 9th, and art. 1st, sect. lOth, Const. U. 
S. Nevertheless, so much stronger is custom than positive law, that not only every 
magistrate, but every lawyer in the country fancies himself peculiarly an "esquire !" 
It is scarcely necessary to add that, by usage, the appellation is given by courtesy, 
•wherever the English language is spoken, to all who are supposed to belong to the 
class of gentlemen. This, after all, is the only true Americau use of the "word.— 
Editor, 

13 



200 THE CIIAINBE ARE K. 

fellow's bark would prove worse than liis bite, as lie bad just 
observed of myself. 

It would, liardly repay tlie trouble, were I to attempt record- 
ing all that passed, next between our two colloquists ; although 
it was a sufficiently amusing exhibition of wily management to 
frighten the squatter to part with his lumber at a low price, on 
one side, and of sullen security on the other. The security 
proceeded from the fact that Thousandacres liad me, at that 
very moment, a prisoner in his storehouse. 

A bargain conducted on such terms was not likely soon to 
come to a happy termination. After a great deal of chaffering 
and discussing, the conference broke uj), nothing having been 
decided, by the magistrate's saying — 

''Well, Thousandacres, I hope you'll have no reason to re- 
pent ; but I kind o' fear you will." 

"The loss will be mine and the b'ys' if I do," was the squat- 
ter's answer. " I know I can get all the boards into the creek; 
and, for that matter, into the river, afore young Littlepage can 
do me any harm ; though there is one circumstance that may 
yet turn my mind — " 

Here the squatter came to a pause ; and Newcome, who had 
risen, turned short round, eagerly, to press the doubt that he 
saw was working in the other's mind. 

" I thought you would think better of it," he said ; '' for, it's 
out of doubt, should Major Littlepage I'arn your pitch, that he'd 
uproot you, as the winds uproot the fallin' tree." 

"No, 'squire, my mind's made up," Thousandacres coolly 
rejoined. "I'll sell, and gladly; but not on the tarms you 
have named. Two pounds eight the thousand foot, board meas- 
ure, and taking it all round, clear stuff and refuse, without any 
store-pay, will carry off the lumber." 

"Too much, Thousandacres; altogether too much, when 
you consider the risks I run. I'm not sartain that I could 
hold the lumber, even after I got it into the river ; for a re- 
plevy is a formidable thing in law, I can tell you. One pound 
sixteen, one- third store-pay, is the utmost farthin' I can offer." 



THE CHAINBEARER. 291 

In that day all our calculations were in pounds, shillings and 
pence. 

" Then the bargain's off. — I s'pose, squire, you've the old 
avarsion to being seen in my settlement ?" 

''Sartain — sartain," answered ISTewcome, m haste. *' There's 
no danger of that, I hope. You cannot Avell have strangers 
among you !" 

" I wunt answer for that. I see some of the b'ys coming 
out of the woods, yonder ; and it seems to me there is a fourth 
man with them. There is, of a certainty ; and it is no other 
than Susquesus, the Onondago. The fellow is cluss-mouthed, 
like most red-skins ; but you can say best whether you'd like 
to be seen by him, or not. I hear he's a great fri'nd of Chain- 
bearer's." 

It was very evident that the magistrate decided, at once, in 
the negative. With a good deal of decent haste he dodged 
round a pile of logs, and I saw no more of him until I caught 
a distant view of his person in the skirts of the woods, at the 
point whence he had issued into the clearing, two hours before, 
and where he now received his horse from the hands of the 
youngest of Thousandacres' sons, who led the animal to the 
spot for his especial accommodation. Mr. Newcome was no 
sooner in possession of his beast again, than he mounted and 
rode away into the depths of the forest. So adroitly was this 
retreat conducted, that no person of ordinary observation could 
possibly have detected it, unless indeed his attention had been 
previously drawn to the movement. 

What passed, at parting, between Thousandacres and his vis- 
itor, I never knew ; but they must have been altogether alone 
for a few minutes. When the former reappeared, he came out 
from behind the logs, his whole attention seemingly fastened 
on the approaching party, composed of his sons and Susque- 
sus. Those resolute and practised men had, indeed, overtaken 
and captured the Onondago, and were now bringing him, a 
prisoner, unarmed, in their midst, to receive the commands of 
their fatlicr ! Notwithstanding all that I kno-vv of this man, anJ 



292 THE CIIAINBEAllER. 

of liis cliaracter, there was something imposing in the mannci 
in which he now waited for the arrival of his sons and their 
prisoner. Accustomed to exercise an almost absolute sway in 
his own family, the old man had acquired some of the dignity 
of authority ; and as for his posterity, old and young, male 
and female, not excepting Prudence, they had gained very little 
in the way of freedom, by throwing aside the trammels of regu- 
lar and recognized law, to live under the rule of their patriarch. 
In this respect they might be likened to the masses, who, in a 
blind pursuit of liberty, impatiently cast away the legal and 
healthful restraints of society, to submit to the arbitrary, self- 
ish, and ever unjust dictation of demagogues. Whatever dif- 
ference there might be between the two governments, was iu 
favor of that of the squatter, who possessed the feelings of na- 
ture in behalf of his own flesh and blood, and was consequently 
often indulo;ent. 

It is so difficult to read an Indian's mind in his manner, that 
I did not expect to ascertain the state of the Onondago's feelings 
by the countenance he wore, on drawing near. In exterior, 
this man was as calm and unmoved as if just arrived on a friendly 
visit. His captors had bound him, fearful he might elude them, 
in some of the thickets they had been compelled to pass ; but 
the thongs seemed to give him neither mental nor bodily con- 
cern. Old Thousandacres was stern in aspect ; but he had too 
much experience in Indian character — knew too well the unfor- 
giving nature of the Indians' dispositions, or the enduring 
memories that forgot neither favors nor injuries, to wantonly 
increase the feeling that must naturally have been awakened 
between him and his prisoner. 

" Trackless," he said, considerately, ''you're an old warrior, 
and must know that in troubled times every man must look 
out for himself. I'm glad the b'ys warn't driven to do you any 
harm ; but it would never have done to let you carry the tidings 
of what has happened here, this morning, to Chainbearer and 
his gang. How long I may have to keep you, is more than I 
know myself; but your treatment shall be good, and your wil- 



THE CHAINBEARER. 293 

como warm, so long as you give no trouble. I know wliat a 
red-skin's word is ; and maybe, a'ter thinkin' on it a little, I 
may let you out to wander about tlie clearin', provided you'd 
give your parole not to go ofF. I'll think on't, and let you 
know to-morrow ; but to-day I must put you in the store' us' 
along with the young chap that you travelled here with." 

Thousandacres then demanded of his sons an account of the 
manner in which they had taken their captive ; which it is un- 
necessary to relate here, as I shall have occasion to give it 
directly in the language of the Indian himself. As soon as 
satisjfied on this head, the door of my prison was opened, and 
the Onondago entered it, unbound, without manifesting the 
smallest shade of regret, or any resistance. Every thing was 
done in a very lock-up sort of manner ; the new prisoner being 
no sooner " permitted," than the door was secured, and I was 
left alone with Sureflint ; one of the younger girls now remain- 
ing near the building as a sentinel. I waited a moment, to 
make certain we were alone, when I opened the communica- 
tions with my friend. 

** I am very sorry for tliis, Sureflint," I commenced, "for I 
had hoped your knowledge of the woods, and practice on trails, 
would have enabled you to throw off your pursuers, that you 
might have carried the news of my imprisonment to our friends. 
This is a sore disappointment to me ; having made sure you 
would let Chainbearer know where I am." 

"Wy t'ink different, now, eh? S'pose, 'cause In j in pris- 
oner, can't help himself?" 

" You surely do not mean that you are here with your own 
consent ?" 

" Sartain. S'pose no want to come; am no come. You 
t'ink Thousandacres' b'ys catch Susquesus in woods, and he 
don't want to ? Be sure, winter come, and summer come. Be 
sure, gray hair come a little. Be sure Trackless get ole, by-'m- 
byc ; but he moccasin leave no trail yet !" 

" As I cannot understand why you should first escape, and 
then wish to come back, T must beg you to explain yourself. 



294 THE CIIAINBEARER. 

Let me know all that lias passed, Sureflint — liow it lias passed, 
and ivhy it has passed. Tell it in your own way, but tell it 
fully." 

'' Sartain — why no tell? No harm ; all good — some t'ing 
capital ! Nebber hab better luck." 

"You excite my curiosity, Sureflint ; tell the whole story at 
once, beginning at the time when you slipped off, and carrying 
it down to the moment of your arrival here." 

Hereupon, Susquesus turned on me a significant look, drew 
his pipe from his belt, filled and lighted it, and began to smoke 
with a composure that was not easily disturbed. As soon as 
assured that his pipe was in a proper state, however, the Indian 
quietly began his story. 

" Now listen, you hear," he said. " Run away, 'cause no 
good to stay here, and be prisoner — dat ivhy^ 

"But you are a prisoner, as it is, as well as myself; and, by 
your statement, a prisoner with your own consent." 

"Sartain — nebber hab been prisoner, won't be prisoner, if 
don't want to. S'pose shot, den can't help him ; but in woods, 
Injin nebber prisoner, 'less lazy, or drunk. Rum make great 
many prisoner." 

" I can believe all this — ^but tell mc the story. Why did you 
go off at first ?" 

" S'pose don't want Chainbearer know where he be, eh ? 
T'ink T'ousandacre ebber let you go while board in stream ? 
"When board go, he go ; not afore. Stay all summer ; want to 
live in store'us' all summer, eh?" 

" Certainly not — well, you left me, in order to let our friends 
know where I was, that they might cast about for the means of 
getting me free. All this I understand ; what next ?" 

" Next, go off in wood. Easy 'nough to slip off when T'ous- 
andacre no look. Well, went about two mile ; leave no trail — 
bird make as much in air. What s'pose meet, eh?" 

" I wait for you to tell me." 

" Meet Jaap — yes — meet nigger. Look for young master — • 
ebbery body in trouble, and w^on'er where young chief be. 



THE CIIAINBEARER. 295 

Some look here — some look out yonder — all look somewhere — 
.Taap look just dere." 

"And you told Jaap the whole story, and sent him back to 
the huts with it !" 

"* Saitain — ^just so. Make good guess dat time. Den t'ink 
what do, next. "Want to come back and help young pale-face 
frien'; so t' ought get take prisoner one time. Like to know 
how he feel to be prisoner one time. No feel so bad as s'pose. 
Squatter no hard master for prisoner." 

" But how did all this happen, and in what manner have you 
misled the young men ?" 

"No hard to do at all. All he want is know how. A'ter 
Jaap get his ar'n'd, and go off, made trail plain 'nough for 
squaw to find. Travel to a spring — sit down and put rifle away 
off, so no need shoot, and let him squatter's boys catch me, by 
what you call s'prise ; yes, 'e pale-faces s' prise red man dat 
time ! Warrant he brag on't well !" 

Here, then, was the simple explanation of it all ! Susquesus 
had stolen away, in order to apprise my friends of my situation ; 
he had fallen in with Jaap, or Jaaf, in search of his lost master ; 
and, communicating all the circumstances to the negro, had art- 
fully allowed himself to be recaptured, carefully avoiding a 
struggle, and had been brought back and placed by my side. 
No explanations were necessary to point out the advantages. 
By communicating with the negro, who had been familiar for 
years with the clipped manner of the Indian's mode of speak- 
ing English, every thing would be made known to Chainbearer ; 
by suffering himself to be taken, the squatters were led by Sure- 
flint to suppose our capture and their " pitch" remained secrets; 
while, by rejoining me, I should have the presence, counsel and 
assistance of a most tried friend of my father's and Chainbearer's 
in the event of necessity. 

This brief summary of his reasoning shows the admirable sa- 
gacity of the Onondago, who had kept in view every requisite 
of his situation, and failed in nothing. 

I was delighted wdth the address of Sureflint, as well as 



29(3 THE CHAINBEARER. 

touched by liis fidelity. In the course of our conversation, he 
gave me to understand that my disappearance and absence for 
an entire night had produced great consternation in the huts^ 
and that every body was out in quest of me and himself, at the 
time when he so opportunely fell in with Jaap. 

'' Gal out, too" — added the Onondago, significantly. "S'pose 
good reason for dat." 

This startled me a little, for I had a vague suspicion that Sus- 
cjuesus must have been an unseen observer of my interview with 
Ursula Malbone ; and noticing my manner on rushing from her 
cabin, had been induced to follow me, as has been related. The 
reader is not to suppose that my late adventures had driven Dus 
from my mind. So far from this, I thought of her incessantly; 
and the knowledge that she took so much interest in me as to 
roam the woods in the search, had no tendency to lessen the 
steadiness or intensity of my reflections^ Nevertheless^ common 
humanity might induce one of her energy and activity to do as 
much as this ; and had I not her own declaration that she was 
plighted to another ! 

After getting his whole story, I consulted the Indian on the 
subject of our future proceedings. lie was of opinion that we 
had better wait the movements of our friends, from whom we 
must hear in some mode or other, in the course of the approach- 
ing night, or of the succeeding day. What course Chainbearer 
might see fit to pursue, neither of us could conjecture, though 
both felt assured he never would remain quiet with two as fast 
friends as ourselves in durance. My great concern was that he 
might resort at once to force, for old Andries had a fiery spirit, 
though one that was eminently just ; and he had been accus- 
tomed to see gunpowder burned from his youth upward. Should 
he, on the other hand, resort to legal means, and apply to Mr. 
Newcome for warrants to arrest my captors, as men guilty of 
illegal personal violence, a course it struck me Frank Malbone 
would be very apt to advise, what might I not expect from the 
collusion of the magistrate, in the way of frauds, delays and 
private machinations ? In such a case, there would be time to 



I 



THE CHAINBEARER. 20V 

send me to some otlier place of concealment, and the forest 
must have a hundred such that were accessible to my new mas- 
ters, while their friend Newcome would scarcely fail to let them 
have timely notice of the necessity of some such step. Men 
acting in conformity with the rules of right, fulfilling the require- 
ments of the law, and practising virtue, might be so remiss as 
not to send information of such an impending danger, for such 
persons are only too apt to rely on the integrity of their own 
characters, and to put their trust on the laws of Providence ; 
but rogues, certain that they can have no such succor, depend 
mainly on themselves, recognizing the well-known principle of 
Frederick the Great, who thought it a safe rule to suppose that 
"Providence was usually on the side of strong battalions." I 
felt certain, therefore, that Squire Newcome would let his friends 
at the "clearing" know all that was plotting against them, as 
soon as he knew it himself. 

The squatters were not unkind to us prisoners in the way of 
general treatment. Certainly I had every right to complain of 
the particular wrong they did me; but, otherwise, they were 
sufficiently considerate and liberal throughout that day. Our 
fare was their own. We had water brought in fresh by Lowiny 
no fewer than five several times ; and so attentive to my sup- 
posed wants was this girl, that she actually brought me every 
book that was to be found in all the libraries of the family. 
These were but three — a fragment of a Bible, Pilgrim's Progress, 
and an almanac that was four years old. 



293 THE OHAINBEAUEK,. 



CHAPTER XX. 

" I markM liis desultory pace, 
His gestures strange, and varying face, 
With many a muttered sound ; 
And ah I too late, aghast, I view'd 
The reeking blade, the hand imbruM : 
He fell, and groaning grasp'd in agony the ground." 

"Warton. 

In this manner passed that long and wearying day. I could 
and did take exercise, by walking to and fro in my prison ; but 
tlie Indian seldom stirred from tlie moment he entered. As 
for the squatter himself, he came no more near the storehouse, 
though I imw him, two or three times in the course of the day, 
in private conference with his elder sons, most probably con- 
sulting on my case. At such moments, their manner was 
serious, and there were instants when I fancied it menacing. 

Provision was made for our comfort by throwing a sufficient 
number of bundles of straw into the prison, and my fellow- 
captive and myself had each a sufficiently comfortable bed. A 
soldier was not to be frightened at sleeping on straw, moreover ; 
and as for Susquesus, he asked for no more than room to stretch 
himself, though it were even on a rock. An Indian loves his 
ease, and takes it when it comes in his way ; but it is really 
amazing to what an extent his powers of endurance go, when 
it becomes necessary for him to exert them. 

In the early part of the night I slept profoundly, as I believe 
did the Indian. I must acknowledge than an uncomfortable 
distrust existed in my mind, that had some slight effect in keep- 
ing me from slumbering, though fatigue soon overcame the ap- 
prehensions such a feeling would be likely to awaken. I did 
not know but Thousandacres and his sons miojht take it into 



THE CHAINBEARER. 299 

tlieir heads to make away with the Indian and myself under 
cover of the darkness, as the most eflfectual means of protecting 
themselves against the consequences of their past depredations, 
and of securing the possession of those that they had projected 
for the future. We were completely in their power, and, so far 
as the squatter knew, the secret of our visit would die with us ; 
the knowledge of those of his own flesh and blood possessed on 
the subject excepted. Notwithstanding these thoughts crossed 
my mind, and did give me some little uneasiness, they were not 
sufficiently active or sufficiently prominent to prevent me from 
slumbering, after I had fairly fallen asleep, without awaking 
once, until it was three o'clock, or within an hour of the ap- 
proach of day. 

I am not certain that any external cause aroused me from my 
slumbers. But I well remember that I lay there on my straw, 
meditating for some time, half asleep and half awake, until I 
fancied I heard the musical voice of Dus, murmuring in my ear 
my own name. This illusion lasted some little time ; when, as 
my faculties gradually resumed their powers, I became slowly 
convinced that some one was actually calling me, and by name 
too, within a foot or two of my ears. I could not be mistaken; 
the fact was so, and the call was in a woman's tones. Spring- 
ing up, I demanded — 

" Who is here ? In the name of heaven, can this really be 
Miss Malbone — Dus!" 

'*My name is Lowiny," answered my visitor, "and I'm 
Thousandacres' da'ghter. But don't speak so loud, for there 
is one of the b'ys on the watch at the other end of the store' us, 
and you'll wake him up unless you're careful." 

" Lowiny, is it you, my good girl ? Not content to care for 
us throughout the day, you still have a thought for us during 
the ni<rht !" 

I thought the girl felt embarrassed, for she must have been 
conscious of having a little trespassed on the usages and re- 
serv'c of her sex. It is rare, indeed, that any mother, and 
especially an American mother, ever falls so low as completely 



300 THE CHAIN BEARER. 

to become unsexed in feelings and character, and rarer still tliat 
she forgets to impart many of the decencies of woman to hei 
daughter. Old Prudence, notwithstanding the life she led, 
and the many causes of corruption and backslidings that existed 
around her, was true to her native instincts, and had taught to 
her girls many of those little proprieties that become so great 
charms in woman. 

Lowiny was far from disagreeable in person, and had the ad- 
vantage of being youthful in appearance, as well as in fact. 
In addition to these marks of her sex, she had manifested an 
interest in my fate, from the first, that had not escaped me ; 
and here she was now, doubtless on some errand of which the 
object was our good. My remark embarrassed her, however, 
and a few moments passed before she got entirely over the feel- 
ing. As soon as she did, she again spoke. 

" I don't think any thing of bringing you and the Inj'in a 
little water," she said — laying an emphasis on the words I have 
put in Italics — "nor should I had we any beer or sap-cider 
instead. But all our spruce is out ; and father said he wouldn't 
have any more of the cider made, seein' that we want all the 
sap for sugar. I hope you had a plentiful supply, Mr. Little- 
page ; and for fear you hadn't, I've brought you and the red- 
skin a pitcher of milk and a bowl of hasty -pudding — he can eat 
a'ter you've done, you know." 

I thanked my kind-hearted friend, and received her gift 
through a hole that she pointed out to me. The food, in the 
end, proved very acceptable, as subsequent circumstances caused 
our regular breakfast to be forgotten for a time. I was desirous 
of ascertaining from this girl what was said or contemplated 
among her relatives, on the subject of my future fate ; but felt a 
nearly unconquerable dislike to be prying into what was a 
species of family secrets, by putting direct questions to her. 
Fortunately, the communicative and friendly disposition of 
Lowiny herself soon removed all necessity for any such step ; 
for after executing her main purpose, she lingered with an evi* 
dent wish to gossip. 



THE CHAIN BEARER. 301 

** I wish fjither wouldn't be a squatter any longer," tlie girl 
said, witli an earnestness that proved she was uttering her real 
sentiment. *' It's awful to be forever fighting ag'in law !" 

" It would be far better if he would apply to some landowner 
and get a farm on lease, or by purchase. Land is so plenty in 
this country, no man need go without a legal interest in his 
hundred acres, provided he be only sober and industrious." 

" Father never drinks, unless it's on the Fourth of July ; 
and the b'ys be all pretty sober, too, as young men go, nowa- 
days. I believe, Mr, Littlepage, if mother has told father once 
she has told him a thousand times, that she doos wish he'd 
leave off squatting, and take w^ritin's for some piece of land or 
other. But father says, ' no — he warn't made for writin's, nor 
writin's for him.' He's desp'ately troubled to know what to do 
with you, now he's got you." 

*'Did Mr. Newcome give no opinion on the subject, while he 
was with you V 

*' 'Squire Newcome ! Father never let on to him a syllabic 
about ever having seen you. He know^s too much to put him- 
•^elf in 'Squire Newcome's powxr, sin' his lumber would go 
all the cheaper for it. What's your opinion, Mr. Littlepage, 
about our right to the boards, when we've cut, and hauled, 
and sawed the logs with our own hands. Don't that make some 
difference V 

''What is your opinion of j^our right to a gown that another 
girl has made out of calico she had taken from your drawer, 
when your back was turned, and carried away, and cut and 
stitched and sewed with her own hands?" 

'' She never ivould have any right to my calico, let her cut it 
as much as she might. But lumber is made out of trees." 

"And trees have owners just as much as calico. Hauling, 
and cutting, and sawing can of themselves give no man a right 
to another man's logs." 

" I was afeard it was so — " answered Lowiny, sighing so loud 
as to be heard. " There's sutliin' in that old Bible I lent you 
that I read pretty much in that way ; though Tobit, and most 



302 THE CHAINBEAIIER. 

of the b'ys say it don't mean any sicli thing. They saj there's 
nothin' about lumber in the Bible, at all." 

" And what does your mother tell you on this head ?" 

*' Why, mother don't talk about it. She wants father to 
lease or buy ; but you know how it is with women, Mr. Little- 
page ; when their fri'nds act, it's all the same as a law to them 
to try to think that they act right. Mother never says any 
thing to us about the lawfulness of father's doin's, though she 
often wishes he would live under writin's. Mother wants father 
to try and get writin's of you, now you're here, and in his 
hands. Wouldn't you give us writin's, Mr. Littlepage, if we'd 
promise to give you suthin' for rent 2" 

" If I did, they would be good for nothing, unless I were free, 
and among friends. Deeds and leases got from men who are *in 
the hands,' as you call it, of those who take them, are of no value." 

" I'm sorry for that — " rejoined Lowiny, with another sigh — 
" not that I wanted you to be driven into any thing, but I 
thought if you would only consent to let father have writin's 
for this clearin', it's so good a time to do it now, 'twould be a 
pity to lose it. If it can't be done, however, it can't, and 
there's no use in complaining. Father thinks he can hold you 
'till the water rises in the fall, and the b'ys have run all the 
lumber down to Albany ; a'ter which, he'll not be so partic'lar 
about keepin' you any longer, and maybe he'll let you go." 

" Hold me until the water rises ! Why that will not take 
place these three months !" 

" Well, Mr. Littlepage, three months don't seem to me sicli 
a desp'rate long time, when a body is among fri'nds. We 
should treat you as well as we know how, that you may depend 
on — I'll answer for it, you shall want for nothin' that we've got 
to give." 

"I dare say, my excellent girl, but I should be extremely 
sorry to trouble your family with so long a visit. As for the 
boards, I have no power to waive the rights of the owners of 
the land to that property ; my power being merely to sell lota 
to actual settlers." 



THE CHAINBEARER. 303 

*' I'm sorry to licar that," answered Lowiny in a gentle tone, 
that fully confirmed her Avords ; "for father and the b'ys be 
really awful about any thing that touches their profits for work 
done. They say their flesh and blood's in them boards, and 
flesh and blood shall go, afore the boards shall go. It makes 
my blood run cold to hear the way they do talk ! I'm not a 
bit skeary ; and last winter, when I shot the bear that was 
a'ter the store-hogs, mother said I acted as well as she could 
have done herself, and she has killed four bears and near 
upon twenty wolves, in her time. Yes, mother said I behaved 
like her own daughter, and that she set twice the store by me 
that she did before." 

** You are a brave girl, Lowiny, and an excellent one in the 
main, I make no question. "Whatever become of me, I shall 
not forget your kindness as long as I live. It will be a very 
serious matter, however, to your friends, to attempt keeping me 
here three or four months, as mine will certainly have a search 
for me, when this clearing would be found. I need not tell you 
what would be the consequence." 

*' What can — what will father and the b'ys do? I can't bear 
to think on't — oh ! they'll not have the hearts to try to put 
you out of the way !" 

"I should hope not, for their own sakes, and for the credit 
of the American name. We are not a nation addicted to such 
practices, and I should really regret to learn that we have made 
so long a step toward the crimes of older countries. But there 
is little danger of any thing of the sort, after all, my good 
Lowiny." 

'' I hope so, too," the girl answered in a low, tremulous voice; 
" though Tobit is a stam bein' sometimes. He makes father 
worse than he would be, if let alone, I know. But I must go, 
now. It's near daylight, and I hear 'em stirring in Tobit' s 
house. It would cost me dear did any on 'em know I had been 
out of my bed, talking to you." 

As this was said, the girl vanished. Before I could find an 
aperture to watch her movements, she had disappeared. Sus- 



304 THE OUAINBEARER. 

quesus arose a few minutes later, but lie never made any allusioi> 
to the secret visit of the girl. In this respect, he observed the 
most scrupulous delicacy, never letting me know by hint, look, 
or smile, that he had been in the least conscious of her presence. 

Day came as usual, but it did not find these squatters in their 
beds. They appeared with the dawn, and most of them were 
at work ere the broad light of the sun was shed on the forest. 
Most of the men went down into the river, and busied them- 
selves, as we supposed, for we could not see them, in the water, 
with the apples of their eyes, their boards. Old Thousandacrcs, 
however, chose to remain near his habitation, keeping two or 
three well-grown lads about him ; probably adverting in his 
mind to the vast importance it was to all of his race, to make 
sure of his prisoners. I could see by the thoughtful manner of 
the old squatter, as he lounged around his mill, among his swine, 
and walked through his potatoes, that his mind wavered greatly 
as to the course he ought to pursue, and that he was sorely 
troubled. How long this perplexity of feeling would have con- 
tinued, and to what it might have led, it is hard to say, had it 
not been cut short by an incident of a very unexpected nature, 
and one that called for more immediate decision and action. I 
shall relate the occurrence a little in detail. 

The day was considerably advanced, and, Thousandacrcs and 
the girl who then watched the storehouse excepted, every body 
was occupied. Even Susquesus had picked up a piece of birch, 
and with a melancholy countenance, that I fancied was shadow- 
ing forth the future life of a half-civilized red man, was attempt- 
ing to make a broom with a part of a knife that he had found 
in the building ; while I was sketching, on a leaf of my pocket- 
book, the mill and a bit of mountain land that served it for a 
background. Thousandacrcs, for the first time that morning, 
drew near our prison, and spoke to me. His countenance was 
severe, yet I could see he was much troubled. As I afterward 
ascertained, Tobit had been urging on him the necessity of put- 
tmg both myself and the Indian to death, as the only probable 
means that offered to save the lumber. 



THE CHAIN BEARER. 305 

" Young man," said Tliousandacres, " you have stolen on me 
and mine like a thief at night, and you ought to expect the fate 
of one. How in natur' can you expect men will give up their 
hard 'arnin's without a struggle and a fight for 'em ? You tempt 
me more than I can bear !" 

I felt the fearful import of these words ; but human nature 
revolted at the thought of being cowed into any submission, or 
terms unworthy of my character, or late profession. I was on 
the point of making an answer in entire consonance with this 
feeling, when, in looking through the chinks of my prison to 
fasten an eye on my old tyrant, I saw Chainbearer advancing 
directly toward the storehouse, and already within a hundred 
yards of us. The manner in which I gazed at this apparition 
attracted the attention of the squatter, who turned and first saw 
the unexpected visitor who approached. At the next minute, 
Andries was at his side. 

" So, T'ousantacres, I fint you here!" exclaimed Chainbearer. 
"It's a goot many years since you and I met, and I'm sorry 
we meet now on such pisiness as t'is !" 

" The meetin's of your own seekin', Chainbearer. I've neither 
invited nor wished for your company." 

** I p'lieve you wit' all my heart. No, no ; you wish for no 
chains and no chainpearers, no surfeyors and no compasses, no 
lots and no owners, too, put a squatter. You and I haf not to 
make an acquaintance for t'e first time, T'ousantacres, after 
knowin' each other for fifty years." 

"Yes, we do know each other for fifty years; and seein' that 
them years hav'nt sarved to bring us of a mind on any one thing, 
we should have done better to keep apart, than to come together 
now." 

"I haf come for my poy, squatter — my nople poy, whom 
you haf illegally arrestet, and mate a prisoner, in the teet' of all 
law and justice. Gif me pack Mortaunt Littlepage, and you'll 
soon be rit of my company !" 

" And how do you know that I've ever seen your * Mortaunt 
Littlepage V What have I to do with your boy, that you seek 



o06 THE C H A I N B E A R E R . 

him of me ? Go your ways, go your ways, old Cliainbcarer, 
and let me and mine alone. The world's wide enough for us 
both, I tell you ; and why should you be set on your own on- 
doin', by runnin' ag'in a breed like that which comes of Aaron 
and Prudence Timberman ?" 

**I care not for you or your preet," answered old Andries 
sternly. *' You've dare't to arrest my frient, against law and 
right, and I come to demant his liperty, or to warn you of t'e 
consequences." 

*' Don't press me too far, Chainbearer, don't press me too far. 
There's desp'rate crittur's in this clearin', and them that is'nb 
to be driven from their righteous 'arnin's by any that carry 
chains or p'int compasses. Go your way, I tell ye, and leave us 
to gather the harvest that comes of the seed of our own sowin' 
and plantin'." 

" Ye'll gat'er it, ye'll gat'er it all, T'ousantacres — you and 
yours. Ye've sown t'e win't, and ye'll reap t'e whirlwints, as 
my niece Dus Malpone has reat to me often, of late. Ye'll 
gat'er in all your harvest, tares ant all, ye will ; and t'at sooner 
t'an ye t'ink for." 

** I wish I'd never seen the face of the man ! Go away, I tell 
you, Chainbearer, and leave me to my hard 'arnin's." 

" Earnin's ! Do you call it earnin's to chop and pillage on 
anot'er's lants, and to cut his trees into logs, and to saw his logs 
into poarts, and to sell his poarts to speculators, and gif no 
account of your profits to t'e rightful owner of it all ? Call 
you such t'ievin' righteous earnin's ?" 

'' Thief back ag'in, old measurer ! Do not the sweat of the 
brow, long and hard days of toil, achin' bones, and hungry 
bellies, give a man a claim to the fruit of his labors ?" 

"T'at always hast peen your failin', T'ousantacres; t'at's t'e 
very p'int on which you've proken town, man. You pegin wit' 
your morals, at t'e startin' place t'at's most convenient to your- 
self and your plunterin' crew, insteat of goin' pack to t'e laws 
of your Lort and Master. Reat what t'e Almighty Got of 
Heaven ant 'art' sait unto Moses, ant you'll fint t'at you've not 



THE C II A I N B E A R E R . 307 

turnet ovor leafs cnougli of your piple. You may cliop ant you 
may Lew, you may liaul ant you may saw, from t'is day to t'e 
ent of time, and you'll nefer pe any nearer to t'e right t'an you 
are at t'is moment. T'e man t'at starts on Ins journey wit' his 
face in t'e wrong direction, olt T'ousantacres, Avilt nefer reach 
its ent ; t'ough he trafel 'till t'e sweat rolls from his poty like 
water. You pegin wrong, olt man, and you must ent wrong." 

I saw the cloud gathering in the countenance of the squatter, 
and anticipated the outbreaking of the tempest that followed. 
Two fiery tempers had met, and, divided as they were in opin- 
ions and practice, by the vast chasm that separates principles 
from expediency, right from wrong, honesty from dishonesty, 
and a generous sacrifice of self to support the integrity of a 
noble spirit, from a homage to self that confounded and over- 
shadowed all sense of right, it was not possible that they should 
separate without a collision. Unable to answer Chainbearer's 
reasoning, the squatter resorted to the argument of force. He 
seized my old friend by the throat and made a violent effort to 
hurl him to the earth. I must do this man of violence and evil 
the justice to say, that I do not think it was his wish at that 
moment to have any assistance ; but the instant the struggle com- 
menced the conch blew, and it was easy to predict that many 
minutes would not elapse, before the sons of Thousandacres 
would be pouring in to the rescue. I would have given a world 
to be able to throw down the walls of my prison, and rush to 
the aid of my sterling old friend. As for Susquesus, he must 
have felt a lively interest in what was going on, but he remained 
as immovable, and seemingly as unmoved as a rock. 

Andries Coejemans, old as he was, and it will be remembered 
he too had seen his threescore years and ten, was not a man 
to be taken by the throat with impunity. Thousandacres n&et 
with a similar assault, and a struggle followed that was surpris- 
ingly fierce and well contested, considering that both the com- 
batants had completed the ordinary limits of the time oi man. 
The squatter gained a slight advantage in the suddenness and 
vigor of his assault, but Chainbearcr was still a man of formid- 



308 THE CII AINBE ARER. 

able physical power. In liis prime few had been bis equals ; 
and Thousandacres soon bad reason to know tbat be bad met 
more tban bis match. For a single instant Chainbearer gave 
ground ; then be rallied, made a desperate effort, and bis ad- 
versary was hurled to the earth with a violence that rendered 
him for a short time insensible ; old Andries himself continu- 
ing erect as one of the neighboring pines, red in the face, frown- 
ing, and more severe in aspect than I remembered ever to have 
seen him before, even in battle. 

Instead of pushing his advantage, Chainbearer did not stir a 
foot after be had thrown off bis assailant. There he remained, 
lofty in bearing, proud and stern. He had reason to believe no 
one was a witness of his prowess, but I could see tbat the old 
man had a soldier's feelings at his victory. At this instant I 
first let him know my close proximity by speaking. 

"Fly — for your life take to the woods, Chainbearer," I called 
to him, through the clinks. " That conch will bring all the 
tribe of the squatters upon you in two or three minutes ; the 
young men are close at band, in the stream below the mill, at 
work on the logs, and have only the banks to climb." 

''Got be praiset! Mortaunt, my tear poy, you are not in- 
juret, t'en ! I will open t'e toor of your prison, and we will 
retreat toget'er." 

My remonstrances were vain. Andries came round to the 
door of the storehouse, and made an effort to force it open. 
That was not easy, however ; for, opening outward, it was 
barred with iron, and secured by a stout lock. Chainbearer 
would not listen to my remonstrances, but be looked around 
him for some instrument by means of which he could either 
break the lock or draw the staple. As the mill was at no great 
distance, away he went in that direction, in quest of what he 
wanted, leaving me in despair at bis persevering friendship. 
Remonstrance was useless, however, and I was compelled to 
await the result in silence. 

Chainbearer was still a very active man. Nature, early train- 
ing, sobriety of life in the main, and a good constitution, haJ 



THE CIIAINBEARER. 309 

done this much, for him. It was but a moment before I saw 
him in the mill, lookino: for the crowbar. This he soon found, 
and he was on his way to the storehouse, in order to apply this 
powerful lever, when Tobit came in sight, followed by all the 
brethren, rushing up the bank like a pack of hounds in close 
pursuit. I shouted to my friend again to fly, but he came on 
steadily toward my prison, bent on the single object of setting 
rae free. All this time, Thousandacres was senseless, his head 
liaving fallen against a corner of the building. Chainbearer 
was so intent on his purpose that, though he must have seen 
the crowd of young men, no less than six in number, including 
well-grown lads, that was swiftly advancing toward him, he did 
not bestow the least attention on them. He was actually busied 
with endeavoring to force the bar in between the hasp and the post, 
when his arms were seized behind, and he was made a prisoner. 

Chainbearer was no sooner apprised of the uselessness of 
resistance, than he ceased to make any. As I afterward 
learned from himself, he had determined to become a captive 
with me, if he could not succeed in setting me free. Tobit 
was the first to lay hands on the Chainbearer ; and so rapidly 
were things conducted, for it happened this man had the key, 
that the door was unbarred, opened, and old Andries was thrust 
into the cage, almost in the twinkling of an eye. The rapidity 
of the movement was doubtless aided by the acquiescent feeling 
that happened to be uppermost in the mind of Chainbearer, at 
that precise moment. 

No sooner was this new prisoner secured, than the sons of 
Thousandacres raised their father's body, and bore it to his 
own residence, which was but a few yards distant. Old and 
young, both sexes and all ages, collected in that building ; and 
there was an hour during which we appeared to be forgotten. 
The sentinel, who was a son of Tobit' s, deserted his post; and 
even Lowiny, who had been hovering in sight of the storehouse 
the whole morning, seemed to have lost her interest in us. I 
was too much engaged with my old friend, and had too many 
questions to ask and to answer, however, to care much for this 



310 THE CIIAINBEARER. 

desertion ; which, moreover, was natural enough for the circum- 
stances. 

"I rejoice you are not in the hands of that pack of wolves, 
my good friend !" I exclaimed, after the first salutations had 
passed between Andries and myself, and squeezing his hand 
again and again. " They are very capable of any act of vio- 
lence ; and I feared the sight of their father, lying there insen- 
sible, mio-ht have inflamed them to some deed of immediate 
violence. There will now be time for reflection, and fortunately, 
I am a witness of all that passed." 

" No fear for olt Thousandacres," said Chainbearer, heartily. 
" He is tough, and is only a little stunnet, pecause he fought 
himself a petter man fan he ist. Half an hour will pring him 
rount, and make him as good a man ast he ever wast. But 
Mortaunt, lat, how came you here, and why wast you wanter- 
ing apout t'e woods at night, wif Trackless, here, who ist a 
sensiple ret-skin, and ought to haf set you a petter example ?" 

'* I was hot and feverish, and could not sleep ; and so I took 
a stroll in the forest, and got lost. Luckily, Susquesus had an 
eye on me, and kept himself at hand the whole time. I was 
obliged to catch a nap in the top of a fallen tree, and when I 
woke in the morning, the Onondago led me here in quest of 
something to eat, for I was hungry as a famished wolf." 

*' Tid Susquesus, t'en, know of squatters having mate t'eir 
pitch on t'is property?" asked Andries, in some surprise, and 
as I thought, a little sternly. 

*' Not he. He heard the saw of the mill in the stillness of 
night, and we followed the direction of that sound, and came 
unexpectedly out on this settlement. As soon as Thousandacres 
ascertained who I was, he shut me up here ; and as for Sus- 
quesus, Jaap has doubtless told you the story he was commis- 
sioned to relate." 

" All fery true, lat, all fery true ; t'ough I don't half undcr- 
stant, yet, why you shoul't haf left us in t'e manner you tit, and 
t'at, too, after hafin' a long talk wit' Dus. T'e gal is heart- 
heafy, Mortaunt, as 'tis plain to pc seen ; put T can't get a syl- 



THE CHAINBEARER. 311 

laple from her fat hast t'e look of a rational explanation. I 
shall haf to ask you to tell t'e story, lat. I was try in' to get 
t'e trut' out of Diis, half of t'e way comin' here ; put a gal is as 
close as " 

*' Dus !" I interrupted — "Half the way coming here ? You 
do not, cannot mean that Dus is with you." 

" Hist, hist — pe careful. You speak too lout. I coult wish 
not to let t'ese scountrels of squatters know t'at t'e gal is so 
cxposet, put hero she ist ; or, what is much t'e same, she is in 
t'e woots out yonter, a looker-on, and 1 fear must pe in consarn 
at seein' t'at I, too, am a prisoner." 

*' Chainbearer, how could you thus expose your niece — thus 
bring her into the very gi'asp of lawless ruffians ?'* 

** No, Mortaunt, no — t'ere is no fear of her peing insultet, or 
any t'ing of t'at sort. One can reat of such t'ings in pooks, 
put woman is respectet ant not insulted in America. Not one 
of T'ousantacres' rascals woult wount t'e ear of t'e gal wit' an 
improper wort, hat he a chance, which not one of 'em hast, 
seein' nopody knows t'e gal is wit' me, put ourselves. Come 
she woult, and t'ere wast no use in saying her nay. Dus is a 
goot creature, Mortaunt, and a tutiful gal ; put it's as easy to 
turn a rifer up stream, as to try to holt her pack when she 
loves." 

*' Is that her character ?" I thought. ** Then is there little 
chance, indeed, of her ever becoming mine, since her affections 
must have gone with her troth." Nevertheless, my interest in 
the noble-hearted girl was just as strong as if I held her faith, 
and she was to become mine in a few weeks. The idea that 
she was at that moment waiting the return of her uncle, in the 
woods, was agony to me ; but I had sufficient self-command to 
question the Chainbearer, until I got out of him all of the fol- 
lowing facts : 

Jaap had carried the message of Susquesus, with great fidelity, 
to those to whom the Indian had sent it. On hearing the news, 
and the manner of my arrest, Andries called a council, con- 
sistino- of himself, Dus and Frank Malbone. This occurred m 



312 THE CHAINBEARER. 

the afternoon of the previous day ; and that same night, Mai- 
bone proceeded to Ravensnest, with a view of obtaining war- 
lants for the arrest of Thousandacres and his gang, as well as 
of procuring assistance to bring them all in, in expectation of 
having the whole party transferred to the gaol at Sandy Hill. — 
As the warrant could be granted only by Mr. Newcome, I could 
easily see that the messenger would be detained a considerable 
time, since the magistrate would require a large portion of the 
present day to enable him to reach his house. This fact, 
however, I thought it well enough to conceal from my friend at 
the moment. 

Early that morning, Chainbearer, Dus and Jaap had left the 
huts, taking the nearest route to the supposed position of the 
clearing of Thousandacres, as it had been described by the 
Indian. Aided by a compass, as well as by their long famil- 
iarity with the woods, this party had little difficulty in reach- 
ing the spot where the Onondago and the negro had met ; after 
which, the remainder of the journey was through a terra in- 
cognita,, as respects the adventurers. With some search, how- 
ever, a glimpse was got of the light of the clearing, much as 
one finds an island in the ocean, when the skirts of the wood 
were approached. A favorable spot, one that possessed a good 
cover, was selected, whence Chainbearer reconnoitred for near 
an hour before he left it. After a time he deterniined on the 
course he adopted and carried out, leaving his niece to watch 
his movements, with instructions to rejoin her brother, should 
he himself be detained by the squatter. I was a little relieved 
by the knowledge of the presence of Jaap, for I knew the 
fidelity of the fellow too well to suppose he would ever desert 
Dus ; but my prison became twice as irksome to me after I 
had heard this account of Chainbearer' s, as it had been before. 



THE CHAINBEARER. 313 



CHAPTER XXI. 

"Was she not all my fondest wish could frame? 
Did ever mind so much of heaven partake ? 
Did she not love me with the purest flame ? 
And give up friends and fortune for my sake ? 
Though mild as evening skies, 
With downcast, streaming eyes, 
Stood the stern frown of supercilious brows. 
Deaf to their brutal threats, and faithful lo her vows." 

SUAW. 

Dus was tlien near me— in sight of the storehouse, perhaps ! 
But affection for her uncle, and no interest in me, had brought 
her there. I could respect her attachment to her old guardian, 
however, and admire the decision and spirit she had manifested 
in his behalf, at the very moment the consciousness that I had 
no influence on her movements was the most profound. 

"Te gal woult come, Mortaunt," the Chainbearer continued, 
after having gone through his narrative ; " ant, if you tnow 
Dus, you know when she loves she wilt not be deniet. Got 
pless me! what a wife she woult make for a man who wast 
desarfin' of her! Oh ! here's a pit of a note t'e dear creature 
has written to one of Tousandacres' poys, who hast peen out 
among us often, t'ough I never so much as dreamet t'at t'e 
squatting olt rascal of a fat'er was on our lant, here. Well, 
Zepaniah, as t'e lat is callet, hast passet much time at t'e Nest, 
working apout in t'e fielts, and sometimes for us ; and, to own 
the trut' to you, Mortaunt, I do pelieve t'e young chap hast a 
hankerin' a'ter Dus, and woult pe glat enough to get t'e gal for 
a wife." 

*' He ! Zephaniah Thousandacrcs — or whatever his infernal 
name may be — he a hankering or an attachment for Ursula 
14 



814 THE CHAINBE AREB, 

Malbone — lie tliink of her for a wife — lie presume to love sucb 
a perfect being !" 

" Hoity, toity,'" cried old Andries, looking round at me in 
surprise, "why shouldn't t'e poy haf his feelin's ast avcU ast 
anot'er, if he pe a squatter? Squatters haf feelin's, t'ough t'ey 
hafn't much honesty to poast of. Ant, ast for honesty, you 
see, Mortaunt, it is tifFerent petween T'ousantacres and his poys. 
T'e lats haf peen prought up to fancy t'ere ist no great harm in 
lif'ing on anot'er man's lants, wherast t'is olt rascal, t'eir fat'er, 
wast prought up, or tHnks he wast prought up in t'e very sanc- 
tum sanctorum of gotliness among t'e Puritans, and t'at t'e 'art' 
hast not t'eir equals in religion, I'll warrant you. Ask olt 
Aaron apout his soul, and he'll tell you t'at it's a petter soul 
fan a Dutch soul, and t'at it won't purn at all, it's so free from 
eart'. Yes, yes — t'at ist t'e itee wit' 'em all in his part of t'e 
worlt. Teir gotliness ist so pure even sin wilt do it no great 
harm." 

I knew the provincial prejudices of Chainhearer too well to 
permit myself to fall into a discussion on theology with him, 
just at that moment ; though I must do the old man the jus- 
tice to allow that his opinion of the self-righteousness of the 
children of the Puritans was not absolutely without some apol- 
ogy. I never had any means of ascertaining the fact, but it 
would have occasioned me no surprise had I discovered that 
Thousandacres, and all his brood, looked down on us New 
Yorkers as an especially fallen and sinful race, which was on 
the high road to perdition, though encouraged and invited to 
enter on a different road by the spectacle of a chosen people 
so near them, following the straight and narrow path that leads 
to heaven. This mingling of God and Mammon is by no means 
an uncommon thing among us, though the squatters would 
probably have admitted themselves that they had iixllen a little 
away, and were by no means as good as their forefathers had 
once been. There is nothinec that sticks so close to an indi- 
vidual, or to a community, as the sense of its own worth. As 
" coming events cast their shadows before," this sentiment. 



THE CHAINBEARER. 315 

leaves its shadows beliind, lono^ after tlie substance which mav 
have produced them has moved onward, or been resolved into 
the gases. But I must return to Zephaniah and the note. 

"And you tell me, Chainbearer, that Ursula has actually 
written a note, a letter, to this young man ?" I asked, as 
soon as I could muster resolution enough to put so revolting a 
question ? 

** Sartain ; here it ist, ant a very pretty lookin' letter it is, 
Mortaunt. Dus does every t'ing so hantily, ant so like a nice 
young woman, t'at it ist a pleasure to carry one of her letters. 
Ay — t'ere t'e lat ist now, and I'll just call him, and gif him 
his own." 

Chainbearer was as good as his word, and Zephaniah soon 
stood at the door of the storehouse. 

"Well, you wilt own, Zeph," continued the old man, "we 
didn't cage you like a wilt peast, or a rogue t'at hast been met- 
tlin' wit' what tidn't pelong to him, when you wast out among 
us. T'ere is t'at difference in t'e treatment — put no matter 1 
Here ist a letter for you, and much goot may it do you ! It 
comes from one who vilt gif goot atvice ; ant you'll be none 
the worse if you follow it. I don't know a wort fat's in it, put 
you'll lint it a goot letter, I'll answer for it. Dus writes peauti- 
ful letters, and in a hand almost as plain and hantsome as his 
excellency's, I'ough not quite so large. Put her own hant is'nt 
as large as his excellency's, t'ough his excellency's hant was'nt 
particularly pig neit'er." 

I could scarcely believe my senses ! Here was Ursula Mal- 
bone confessedly writing a letter to a son of Thousandacres, the 
squatter, and that son admitted to be her admirer ! Devoured 
by jealousy, and a thousand feelings to which I had hitherto 
been a stranger, I gazed at the fortunate being Avho was so 
strangely honored by this communication from Dus, with the 
bitterest envy. Although, to own the truth, the young squatter 
was a well-grown, good-looking fellow, to me he seemed to be 
the very personification of coarseness and vulgaritj^ It will 
readily be supposed that Zephaniah was not entirely free from 



316 THE CHAINBEARER. 

aome very just imputations of the latter character ; but on tlie 
whole, most girls of his own class in life would be quite content 
with him in these respects. But Ursula Malbone was not at all 
of his own class in life. However reduced in fortune, she was 
a lady, by education as well as by birth ; and what feelings 
could there possibly be in common between her and her strange 
admirer ? I had heard it said that women were as often taken 
by externals as men; but in this instance the externals were 
coarse, and nothing extraordinary. Some females, too, could 
not exist without admiration ; and I had known Dus but a few 
weeks, after all, and it was possible I had not penetrated the 
secret of her true character. Then her original education had 
been in the forest ; and we often return to our first loves, in 
these particulars, with a zest and devotion for which there was 
no accounting. It was possible this strange girl might have 
portrayed to her imagination, in the vista of the future, more of 
happiness and wild enjoyment among the woods and ravines of 
stolen clearings, than by dwelling amid the haunts of men. In 
short, there was scarce a conceit that did not crowd on my 
brain, in that moment of intense jealousy and profound unliap- 
piness. I was as miserable as a dog. 

As for Zephaniah, the favored youth of Ursula Malbone, he 
received his letter, as I fancied, with an awkward surprise, and 
lounged round a corner of the building, to have the pleasure, as 
it might be, of reading it to himself. This brought him nearer 
to my position ; for I had withdrawn, in a disgust I could not 
conquer, from being near the scene that had just been enacted. 

Opening a letter, though it had been folded by the delicate 
hands of Ursula Malbone, and reading it, were two very different 
operations, as Zephaniah now discovered. The education of 
the young man was very limited, and after an effort or two, he 
found it impossible to get on. With the letter open in his 
hand, he found it as much a sealed book to him as ever. Zeph- 
aniah could read writing, by dint of a considerable deal of 
spelling ; but it must not be a good hand. As some persons 
cannot comprehend pure English, so he found far more difficulty 



THE CHAINBEARER. 317 

in spelling out tlie pretty, even cliaracters before him, than 
would have been the case had he been set at work on the pot- 
hooks and trammels of one of his own sisters. Glancing his 
eyes around in quest of aid, they happened to fall on mine, 
which were watching his movements with the vigilance of a 
feline animal, through the chinks of the logs, and at the dis- 
tance of only three feet from his own face. As for the Indian, 
he, seemingly^ took no more note of what was passing, than 
lovers take of time in a stolen interview ; though I had subse- 
quently reason to believe that nothing had escaped his observa- 
tion. Andries was in a distant part of the prison, reconnoitring 
the clearing and mills with an interest that absorbed all his 
attention for the moment. Of these facts Zephaniah assured 
himself by taking a look through the openings of the logs ; then, 
sidling along nearer to me, he said in a low voice — 

"I don't know how it is, but to tell you the truth. Major 
Littlepage, York larnin' and Yarmount larnin' be so different, 
that I don't find it quite as easy to read this letter as I could 
wish." 

On this hint I seized the epistle, and began to read it in a 
low tone ; for Zephaniah asked this much of me, with a delicacy 
of feeling that, in so far, was to his credit. As the reader may 
have some of the curiosity I felt myself, to know what Ursula 
Malbone could possibly have to say in this form to Zephaniah 
Thousandacres, I shall give the contents of this strange epistle 
in full. It was duly directed to ''Mr. Zephaniah Timberman, 
Mooseridge," and in that respect would have passed for any 
common communication. Within, it read as follows : — 

'* As you have often professed a strong regard for me, I now 
put you to the proof of the sincerity of your protestations. My 
dear uncle goes to your father, Avhom I only know by report, to 
demand the release of Major Littlepage, who, we hear, is a 
prisoner in the hands of your family, against all law and right. 
4s it is possible the business of uncle Chainbearer will be dis- 



318 THE CIIAINBEARER. 

agreeable to Tliousandacres, and that warm words may pass 
between them, I ask of your friendship some efforts to keep the 
peace; and, particularly, should any thing happen to prevent 
my uncle from returning, that you would come to me in the 
woods — for I shall accompany the Chainbearer to the edge of 
your clearing — and let me know it. You will find me there, 
attended, by one of the blacks, and we can easily meet if you 
cross the fields in an eastern direction, as I will send the negro 
to find you and to bring you to me. 

*'In addition to what I have said above, Zephaniah, let me 
also earnestly ask your care in behalf of Major Littlepage. 
Should any evil befall that gentleman, it would prove the undo- 
ing of your whole family ! The law has a long arm, and it will 
reach into the wilderness, as well as into a settlement. The 
person of a human being is a very different thing from a few 
acres of timber, and General Littlepage will think far more of 
his noble son than he will think of all the logs that have been 
cut and floated away. Again and again, theiefore, I earnestly 
entreat of you to befriend this gentleman, not only as you hope 
for my respect, but as you hope for your own peace of mind. 
I have had some connection with the circumstances that threw 
Mr. Littlepage into your hands, and shall never know a happy 
moment again should any thing serious befall him. Remember 
this, Zephaniah, and let it influence your own conduct. I owe 
it to myself and to you to add, that the answer I gave you at 
Ravensnest, the evening of the raising, must remain my answer, 
now and forever ; but, if you have really the regard for me that 
you then professed, you will do all you can to serve Major Lit- 
tlepage, who is an old friend of my uncle's and whose safety, 
owing to circumstances that you would fully understand were 
they told to you, is absolutely necessary to my future peace of 
mind. 

** Your friend, 

" Ursula Malbone." 

"What a strange girl was this Dus ! I suppose it is unneces- 



THE CHAINBEARER. 319 

s<iry to say that I felt profoundly asliamed of my late jealousy, 
which now seemed just as absurd and unreasonable as, a mo- 
ment before, it seemed justified and plausible. God protect 
the wretch who is the victim of that evil-eyed passion ! He 
who is jealous of circumstances, in the ordinary transactions of 
life, usually makes a fool of himself, by seeing a thousand facts 
that exist in his own brain only ; but he whose jealousy is 
goaded on by love, must be something more than human, not 
to let the devils get a firm grasp of his soul. I can give no 
better illustration of the weakness that this last passion induces, 
however, than the admission I have just made, that I believed 
it possible Ursula Malbone could love Zephaniah Thousandacres,. 
or wliatever might be his real name. I have since pulled at my 
own hair, in rage at my own folly, as that moment of weakness 
laas recurred to my mind. 

''She writes a desp'rate letter!" exclaimed the young squat- 
ter, stretching his large frame, like one who had lost command 
of his movements through excitement. ' ' I don't believe, major, 
the like of that gal is to be found in York, taken as state or 
colony ! I've a dreadful likin' for her !" 

It was impossible not to smile at this outpouring of attach- 
ment ; nor, on the whole, w^ould I have been surprised at the 
ambition it inferred, had the youth been but a very little higher 
in the social scale. Out of the large towns, and with here and 
there an exception in favor of an isolated family, there is not, 
even to this day, much distinction in classes among our eastern 
brethren. The great equality of condition and education that 
prevails, as a rule, throughout all the rural population of New 
England, while it has done so much for the great body of their 
people, has had its inevitable consequences in lowering the 
standard of cultivation among the few, both as it is applied to 
acquirements, and to the peculiar notions of castes ; and noth- 
ing is more common in that part of the world, than to hear 
of marriages that elsewhere would have been thought incon- 
gruous, for the simple reason of the difference in ordinary 
habit? and sentiments between the parties. Thus it was, that 



320 THE CHAINBEARER. 

Zeplianiali, witliout doing as much violence to liis own, as 
would be done to our notions of the fitness of things, might 
aspire to the hand of Ursula Malbone ; unattended, as she cer- 
tainly was, by any of the outward and more vulgar signs of her 
real character. I could not but feel some respect for the young 
man's taste, therefore, and this so much the more readily, be- 
cause I no longer was haunted by the very silly phantom of his 
possible success. 

" Having this regard for Dus," I said, " I hope I may count 
on your following her directions." 

" What way can I sarve you, major? I do vow, I've every 
wish to do as Ursula asks of me, if I only know'd how." 

"You can undo the fastenings of our prison, here, and let 
us go at once into the woods, where we shall be safe enough 
against a recapture, depend on it. Do us that favor, and I will 
give you fifty acres of land, on which you can settle down and 
become an honest man. Remember, it will be something hon- 
orable to own fifty acres of good land, in fee." 

Zephaniah pondered on my tempting offer, and I could see 
that he wavered in opinion, but the decision was adverse to my 
wishes. He shook his head, looked round wistfully at the woods 
where he supposed Dus then to be, possibly watching his very 
movements, but he would not yield. 

" If a father can't trust his own son, who can he trust, in 
natur' ?" demanded the young squatter. 

" No one should be aided in doing wrong, and your father 
has no just right to shut up us three, in this building, as he has 
done. The deed is against the law, and to the law, sooner or 
later, will he be made to give an account of it." 

'' Oh ! as for the law, he cares little for that. We've been 
ag'in law all our lives, and the law is ag'in us. When a body 
comes to take the chance of jurors, and witnesses, and lawyers, 
and poor attorn ey-gin'rals, and careless prosecutors, law's no 
great matter to stand out ag'in in this country. I s'pose there 
is countries in which law counts for suthin'; but hereabouts, 
and all through Yarmount, we don't kear much for the laWj 



THE CIIAINBEARER. 321 

unless it's a matter between man and man, and t'other side 
holds out for his rights, bull-dog fashion. Then, I allow, it's 
suthin' to have the law on your side ; but it's no great matter 
in a trespass case." 

" This may not end in a trespass case, however. Your father 
— by the way, is Thousandacres much hurt ?" 

" Not much to speak on," coolly answered the son, still gaz- 
ing in the direction of the woods. " A little stunned, but he's 
gettin' over it fast, and he's used to sich rubs. Father's des- 
p'rate solid about the head, and can stand as much sledgeham- 
mering there, as any man I ever seed. Tobit's tough, too, in 
that part; and he's need of it, for he's forever getting licks 
around the forehead and eyes." 

"And, as your father comes to, what seems to be his disposi- 
tion toward us ?" 

" Nothin' to speak on, in the way of friendship, I can tell 
you! The old man's considerable riled; and when that's the 
case, he'll have his own way for all the governors arid judges in 
the land!" 

" Do you suppose he meditates any serious harm to his pris- 
oners ?" 

" A man doesn't meditate a great deal, I guess, with such a 
rap on the skull. Hq feels a plaguy sight more than he thinks; 
and when the feelin's is up, it doesn't matter much who's right 
and who's wrong. The great difficulty in your matter is how 
to settle about the lumber that's in the creek. The water's 
low ; and the most that can be done with it, afore November, 
will be to float it down to the next rift, over which it can never 
go, with any safety, without more water. It's risky to keep 
one like you, and to keep Chainbearer, too, three or four 
months, in jail like ; and it wunt do to let you go neither, sin' 
you'd soon have the law a'ter us. If we keep you, too, there'll 
be a s'arch made, and a reward offered. Now a good many of 
your tenants know of this clearin', and human natur' can't hold 
out ag'in a reward. The old man knows ihat well ; and it's 



322 THE CII AINBE ARE R. 

what he's most afeared on. We can stand up ag'in ahnost any 
thing better than ag'in a good, smart reward." 

I was amused as well as edified with Zephaniah's simplicity 
and frankness, and would willingly have pursued the discourse, 
had not Lowiny come tripping toward us, summoning her 
brother away to attend a meeting of the family ; the old squat- 
ter having so far recovered as to call a council of his sons. 
The brother left me on the instant, but the girl lingered at my 
corner of the storehouse, like one who was reluctant to de- 
part. 

*'I hope the hasty-puddin' was sweet and good," said Lo- 
winy, casting a timid glance in at the chink. 

" It was excellent, my good girl, and I thank you for it with 
all my heart. Are you very busy now? — can you remain a 
moment while I make a request ?" 

'' Oh! there's nothin' for me to do just now in the house, 
seein' that father has called the b'ys around him. Whenever 
he does that, even mother is apt to quit." 

*'I am glad of it, as I think you are so kind-hearted and 
good, that I may trust you in a matter of some importance ; 
may I not, my good Lowiny ?" 

" Squatters' da'ghtei*s 7nay be good, then, a'ter all, in the ej^es 
of grand landholders I" 

"Certainly — excellent even; and I am much disposed to 
believe that you are one of that class." Lowiny looked delight- 
ed ; and I felt less reluctance at administering this flattery than 
might otherwise have been the case, from the circumstance that 
so much of what I said was really merited. 

" Lideed, I knoAV you are, and quite unfitted for this sort of 
life. But I must tell you my wishes at once, for our time may 
be very short." 

*'Do," said the girl, looking up anxiously, a slight blush 
suflfusing her face ; the truth-telling sign of ingenuous feelings, 
and the gage of virtue; "do, for I'm dying to hear it ; as I 
know beforehand I shall do just what you ask me to do. I 
don't know how it is, but when father or mother ask me to do 



THE CHAINBEARER. 323 

a tiling, I sometimes feel as if I couldn't ; but I don't feel so 
now, at all." 

'' My requests do not come often enough to tire you. Prom- 
ise me, in the first place, to keep my secret." 

" That I will!" answered Lowiny, promptly, and with em- 
phasis. " Not a mortal soul shall know any thing on't, and I 
won't so much as talk of it in my sleep, as I sometimes do, if 
I can any way help it." 

" Chainbearer has a niece, who is very dear to him, and who 
returns all his affection. Her name is — " 

''Dus Malbone," interrupted the girl, with a faint laugh. 
** Zeph has told me all about her, for Zeph and I be great fri'nds 
— he tells me everything, and /tell him every thing. It's 
sich a comfort, you can't think, to have somebody to tell secrets 
to ; — well, what of Dus ?" 

''She is here." 

"Here! I don't see any thing on her" — looking round 
hurriedly, and, as I fancied, in a little alarm — " Zeph says she's 
dreadful han'some !" 

''She is thought so, I believe ; though, in that respect, she 
is far from being alone. There is no want of pretty girls in 
America. By saying she is here, I did not mean here, in the 
storehouse, but here, in the woods. She accompanied her 
uncle as far as the edge of the clearing — look round, more 
toward the east. Do you see the black stub, in the cornfield, 
behind your father's dwelling ?" 

" Sartain — that's plain enough to be seen — I wish I could 
see Albany as plain." 

" Now, look a little to the left of that stub, and you will sec 
a large chestnut, in the edge of the woods behind it — the chest- 
nut I mean that thrusts its top out of the forest, into the clear- 
ing, as it might be." 

" Well, I see the chestnut too, and I know it well. There's 
a spring of water cluss to its roots." 

" At the foot of that chestnut Chainbearer left his niece, and 
doubtless she is somewhere near it now. Could you venture 



324 THE CIIAINBEARBK, 

to stroll as far, Avithout going directly to the spot, and deliver 
a message, or a letter?" 

** To be sure I could ! Why, we gals stroll about the lots as 
much as we please, and it's berry in' time now. Til run and get 
a basket, and you can write your letter while I'm gone. La ! 
Nobody will think any thing of my goin' a berryin' — I have a 
desp'rate wish to see this Dus ! Do you think she'll have 
Zeph ?" 

"Young women's minds are so uncertain, that I should not 
like to venture an opinion. If it were one of my own sex, now, 
and had declared his wishes, I think I could tell you with some 
accuracy." 

The girl langhed ; then she seemed a little bewildered, and 
again she colored. How the acquired — nay native feeling of 
the sex, will rise up in tell-tale ingenuousness to betray a 
woman ! 

" Well," she cried, as she ran away in quest of the basket, 
" to my notion a gal's mind is as true and as much to be de- 
pended on as that of any mortal oritur' living !" 

It was now my business to write a note to Dus. The mate- 
rials for writing my pocket-book furnished. I tore out a leaf, 
and approached Chainbearer, telling him what I was about to 
do, and desiring to know if he had any particular message to 
send. 

"Gif t'e tear gal my plessin', Mortaunt. Tell her olt Chain- 
pearer prays Got to pless her — t'at ist all. I leaf you to say 
t'e rest." 

I did say the rest. In the first place I sent the blessing of 
the uncle to the niece. Then, I explained in as few words as 
possible, our situation, giving it as promising an aspect as my 
conscience would permit. These explanations made, I entreated 
Ursula to return to her brother, and not again expose herself 
so far from his protection. Of the close of this note, I shall 
not say much. It was brief, but it let Dus understand that my 
feelings toward her were as lively as ever ; and I believe it was 
expressed with the power that passion lends. My note was 



THE CHAIX BEARER. 325 

ended just as Lowiny appeared to receive it. She brought us 
a pitcher of milk, as a sort of excuse for returning to the store- 
house, received the note in exchange, and hurried away toward 
the fields. As she passed one of the cabins, I heard her calling 
out to a sister that she was going for blackberries to give the 
prisoners. 

I w^atched the movenaents of that active girl with intense 
interest. Chainbcarer, who had slept little since my disappear- 
ance, was making up for lost time ; and as for the Indian, eating 
and sleeping are very customary occupations of his race, when 
not engaged in some hunt, or on the war-path, or as a runner. 

Lowiny proceeded toward a lot of which the bushes had taken 
full possession. Here she soon disappeared, picking berries as 
she proceeded, with nimble fingers, as if she felt the necessity 
of having some of the fruit to shoAv on her return. I kept my 
eye fastened on the openings of the forest, near the chestnut, as 
soon as the girl was concealed in the bushes, anxiously waiting 
for the moment when I might see her form reappearing at that 
spot. My attention was renewed by getting a glimpse of Dus. 
It was but a glimpse, the fluttering of a female dress gliding 
among the trees ; but, as it was too soon for the arrival of 
Lowiny, I knew it must be Dus. This was cheering, as it left 
little reason to doubt that my messenger would find the object 
of her visit. In the course of half an hour after Lowiny entered 
the bushes I saw her, distinctly, near the foot of the chestnut. 
Pausing a moment, as if to reconnoitre, the girl suddenly moved 
into the forest, when I made no doubt she and Dus had a meet- 
ing. An entire hour passed, and I saw no more of Lowiny. 

In the meanwhile Zephaniah made his appearance again at 
the side of the storehouse. This time he came accompanied 
by two of his brethren, holding the key in his hand. At first 
I supposed the intention was to arraign me before the high 
court of Thousandacres, but in this I was in error. No sooner 
did the young men reach the door of our prison than Zephaniah 
called out to the Onondago to approach it, as he had something 
to say to him. 



320 THE CHAIN BEARER. 

" It must be dull work to a red-skin to be shut up like a liog 
afore it's wrung," said the youth, drawing his images from 
familiar objects ; ** and I s'pose you'd be right glad to come 
out here and walk about, something like a free and rational 
crittur.' What do you say, Injin — is sich your desire ?" 

" Sartain," quietly answered Sureflint. " Great deal radder 
be out dan be in here." 

" So I nat' rally s'posed. Well, the old man says you can 
come out on promises, if you're disposed to make 'em. So 
you're master of your own movements, you see." 

*' What he want me do ? , What he want me to say, eh ?" 

" No great matter, a'ter all, if a body has only a mind to try 
to do it. In the first place, you're to give your parole not to go 
off; but to stay about the clearin', and to come in and give 
yourself up when the conch blows three short blasts. Will you 
agree to that, Sus ?" 

*' Sartain — no go 'way; come back when he call — dat mean 
stay where he can hear conch." 

" Well, that's agreed on, and it's a bargain. Next, you're 
to agree not to go pryin' round the mill and barn, to see what 
you can find, but keep away from all the buildin's but the 
store' us' and the dwellings, and not to quit the clearin.' Do 
you agree ?" 

*' Good ; no hard to do dat." 

" Well, you're to bring no Aveepons into the settlement, and 
to pass nothing but words and food in to the other prisoners. 
Will you stand to that?'''' 

"Sartain; willin' 'nough to do dat, too." 

" Then you're in no manner or way to make war on any on 
us 'till your parole is up, and you're your OAvn man ag'in. 
What do you say to that. Trackless ?" 

** All good ; 'gree to do him all." 

" Wa-a-1, that's pretty much all the old man stands out for ; 
but mother has a condition or two that she insists on't I shall 
ask. Should the worst come to the worst, and the folks of 
this settlement get to blows with the folks out of it, you're to 



THE CHAINBEARER. 327 

bargain to take no scalps of women or cliildren, and none from 
any man that you don't overcome in open battle. The old 
woman will grant you the scalps of men killed in battle, but 
thinks it ag'in reason to take 'em from sich as be not so over- 
come." 

"Good; don't want to take scalp at all," answered the In- 
dian, with an emotion he could not altogether suppress. " Got 
no tribe — got no young men ; what good scalp do ? Nobody 
care how many scalp Susquesus take away — how many he leave 
behind. All dat forgot long time." 

" Wa-a-1, that's your affair, not mine. But, as all the articles 
is agreed to, you can come out, and go about your business. 
Mind, three short, sharp blasts on the conch is the signal to 
come in and give yourself up." 

On this singular cartel Susquesus was set at liberty. I heard 
the whole arrangement with astonishment; though, by the 
manner of the high contracting parties, it was easy to see there 
was nothing novel in the arrangement, so far as they were con- 
cerned. I had heard that the faith of an Indian of any charac- 
ter, in all such cases, was considered sacred, and could not but 
ask myself, as Susquesus walked quietly out of prison, how 
many potentates and powers there were in Christendom who, 
under circumstances similarly involving their most important 
interests, could be found to place a similar confidence in their 
fellows ! Curious to know how my present masters felt on this 
subject, the opportunity was improved to question them. 

" You give the Indian his liberty on parole," I said to Zeph- 
aniali — " will you refuse the same privilege to us white men ?" 

"An Injin is an Injin. He has his natur', and we've our'n. 
Suthin' was said about lettin' you out, too, major; but the old 
man Avouldn't hear to it. ' He know'd mankind,' he said, * and 
he know'd t' would never do.' If you let a white man loose, he 
sets his wits at work to find a hole to creep out on the bargain 
— goin' back to the creation of the 'arth but he'll find one. 
The major will say ' I was put in ag'in' law, and now I'm out, 
I'll stay out ag'in promises,' or some sich reasonin', and now wo 



328 THE CHAINBEARER. 

have liim safe, 'twill be best to keep Mm safe ! That's the 
substance of the old man's idees, and you can see, major, just 
as well as any on us, how likely he'll be to change 'em." 

There was no contending with this logic, which in secret I 
well knew to be founded in fact, and I made no further applica- 
tion for my own release. It appeared, however, that Thousand- 
acres himself was half-disposed to make a concession in favor of 
Chainbearer, similar to that he had granted to the Indian. This 
struck me as singular, after the rude collision that had already 
occurred between the tw^o men — but there are points of honor 
that are peculiar to each condition of life, and which the men 
of each feel a pride not only in causing to be respected, but in 
respecting themselves. 

"Father had some thoughts of taking your parole, too, 
Chainbearer," added Zephaniah, " and he concluded he would, 
hadn't it been that you'd been living out in the settlements so 
much of late years, that he's not quite easy in trusting you. A 
man that passes so much of his time in running boundaries, may 
think himself privileged to step over them." 

"Your fat'er is welcome to his opinion," answered Andries 
coolly. " He'll get no parole of me, nor do I want any favors 
of him. We are at swords' p'ints, young man, and let him 
look out for himself and his lumper as pest he can." 

"Nay," answered Zephaniah, stretching himself, and answer- 
ing with spirit, though he well knew he was speaking to the 
uncle of Dus, and thereby endangering his interests with his 
mistress — " nay, Chainbearer, if it comes to that, 'twill be 
'hardes fend off.' We are a strong party of stout men, and 
arn't to be frightened by the crier of a court, or to be druv' off 
the land by sheep-skin. Catamounts must come ag'in us in 
droves, afore we'll give an inch." 

" Go away, go away — foolish young fellow — you're your 
fat'er's son, and t'at's as much as neet pe said of you. I want 
no favors from squatters, which ist a preed I tetest and tespise." 

I was a little surprised at hearing this answer, and at witness- 
ing this manifestation of feeling in Chainbearer, who, ordinarily, 



THE CIIAINBEARER. 



32P 



was a cool, and uniformly a courteous man. On reflection, 
however, I saw he was not so wrong. An exchange of any 
thing like civilities between us and our captors, might seem to 
give them some claim on us; whereas, by standing on the 
naked right, we had every advantage of them, in a moral sense, 
at least. Zephaniah and his brethren left us, on receiving this 
repulse of Andries ; but Susquesus kept loitering around the 
storehouse, apparently little better oflf now he was on its out- 
side than he had been when in it. He had nothing to do, and 
his idleness was that of an Indian — one of a race of such ter- 
rible energies, when energy is required, a»d so frequently list- 
less, when not pressed upon by necessity, pleasure, war or 
interest. 

Things were in this state, when, some time after the inter- 
view just related, we had another visit from a party headed by 
Tobit. This man came to escort Chainbearer and myself to 
the cabin of Thousandacres, where all the men of the family 
were assembled; and where, as it now appeared, we were to 
have something like a hearing, that might seriously affect our 
fates, for good or for evil. I consulted Chainbearer on the 
propriety of our lending ourselves to such a measure ; but I 
found Andries disposed to meet the brood of squatters, face to 
face, and to tell them his mind, let it be when and where it 
might. Finding my friend in this temper, I made no farther 
objections myself, but left the storehouse in his company, well 
guarded by four of the young men, all of whom were armed, 
holding our way to the seat of justice, in that wild and patri- 
archal government. 



330 THE CHAINBEARRR. 



CHAPTER XXII. 

" Wlien Adam deWd, and Eve span, 
Where Avas then the gentleman ?" 

Old Saw. 

Thousand ACRES liad not altogether neglected forms, tliougli 
sc much set against the spirit of the law. We found a sort 
of court collected before the door of his dwelling, with him- 
self in the centre, while the principal room contained no one 
but Prudence and one or two of her daughters. Among the 
the latter was Lowiny, to my surprise ; for I had not seen the 
girl return from the woods, though my eyes had not been long 
turned from the direction in which I had hopes of catching a 
glimpse of Dus. 

Tobit led us prisoners into the house, placing us near the 
dooi, and facing his father ; an arrangement that superseded 
the necessity of much watchfulness, as our only means of escape 
would necessarily be by rushing through the throng without — 
a thing virtually impracticable. But Chainbcarer appeared to 
have no thought of flight. He entered that circle of athletic 
young men with perfect indifference ; and I remember that 
it struck me his air resembled that which I had often seen him 
assume when our regiment was on the eve of serious ser^dce. 
At such moments old Andries could, and often did, appear 
grand — dignity, authority and coldness being blended with 
sterling courage. 

When in the room, Chainbearer and I seated ourselves near 
the door, while Thousandacres had a chair on the turf without, 
surrounded by his sons, all of whom were standing. As this 
arrangement was made amid a grave silence the effect was not 
altogether without impressiveness, and partook of some of the 



THE CHAIN BEARER. 331 

ordinary aspects of justice. I was struck witli the anxious 
curiosity betrayed in the countenances of the females in partic- 
ular ; for the decision to which Thousandacres was about to 
come, would with them have the authority of a judgment of 
Solomon. Accustomed to reason altogether in their own in- 
terests, I make no doubt that, in the main, all of that semi- 
barbarous breed fancied themselves invested, in their lawless 
occupation, by some sort of secret natural right ; ignorant of 
the fact that, the moment they reduced their claim to this 
standard, they put it on the level with that of all the rest of 
mankind. Nature gives nothing exclusively to an individual, 
beyond his individuality, and that which appertains to his 
person and personal qualities ; all beyond, he is compelled to 
share, under the law of nature, with the rest of his race. A 
title dependent on original possession forms no exception to this 
rule ; for it is merely human convention that gives it force and 
authority, without which it would form no title at all. But 
into mysteries like these, none of the family of Thousandacres 
ever entered; though the still, small voice of conscience, the 
glimmerings of right, were to be traced occasionally, even amid 
the confused jumble of social maxims in which their selfishness 
had taken refuge. 

We live in an age of what is called progTess, and fancy that 
man is steadily advancing on the great path of his destiny, to 
something that we are apt to imagine is to form perfection. 
Certainly I shall not presume to say what is, or what is not, the 
divine intention as to the future destination of our species on 
earth ; but years and experience must have taught me, or I 
should have lived in vain, how little there is among our boasted 
improvements that is really new ; and if we do possess any thing 
in the way of principles that bear on them the impress of inviol- 
ability, they are those that have become the most venerable, by 
having stood the severest tests of time. 

I know not whether the long, silent pause that succeeded 
our arrival, was the result of an intention to heighten the effect 
of that strange scene, or whether Thousandacres really wished 



332 THE CHAIN BEARER. 

time to collect liis tliouglits, and to mature his plans. One 
tiling struck me ; notwithstanding the violence that had so 
recently occurred between Chainbearer and himself, there were 
no traces of resentment in the hardened and wrinkled counte- 
nance of that old tenant of the forest ; for he was too much 
accustomed to those sudden outbreakings of anger, to suffer 
them long to linger in his recollection. In all that was said, 
and in all that passed, in the course of that (to me) memorable 
day, I could trace no manifestation of any feeling in the squat- 
ter, in consequence of the rude personal rencontre that he had so 
lately had with my friend. They had clenched and he had been 
overthrown ; and that ended the matter. 

The silence which occurred after we took our seats must 
have lasted several minutes. For myself, I saw I was only a 
secondary person in this interview ; old Andries having com- 
pletely supplanted me in importance, not only in acts, but in 
the estimation of the squatters. To him they were accustomed, 
and accustomed, moreover, to regard as a sort of hostile power; 
his very pursuit being opposed to the great moving principle 
of their every-day lives. The man who measured land, and he 
who took it to himself without measurement, were exactly 
antagonist forces, in morals as well as in physics ; and might 
be supposed not to regard each other with the most friendly 
eyes. Thus it was that the Chainbearer actually became an 
object of greater interest to these squatters, than the son of one 
of the owners of the soil, and the attorney in fact of both. As 
for the old man himself, I could see that he looked very Dutch ; 
which implied a stubborn resolution bordering on obstinacy ; 
unmoved adherence to what he conceived to be right ; and a 
strong dislike to his present neighbors, in addition to other 
reasons, on account of their having come from the eastward ; 
a race that he both distrusted and respected ; disliked, yet 
covertly honored, for many a quality that was both usefftl and 
good. 

To the next generation, the feeling that was once so active 
between the descendants of Holland among ourselves, and the 



THE CIIAINBEARER. 333 

people of Englisli birth who came from the eastern states, will 
be almost purely a matter of history. I perceive that my 
father, in the manuscript he has transmitted to me, as well as I 
myself, have made various allusions to the subject. It is my 
wish to be understood in this matter. I have introduced it 
solely as ^fact that is beyond controversy ; but, I trust, with- 
out any undue bigotry of opinion. It is possible that both Mr. 
Cornelius Littlepage and his son, unconsciously to ourselves, 
may have been influenced by the ancient prejudices of the 
colonies; though I have endeavored scrupulously to avoid 
them. At any rate, if either of us has appeared to be a little 
too severe, I trust the reader will remember how much has been 
uttered to the world in reference to this dislike, by the Yankee, 
and how little by the Dutchman, during the last century and a 
half, and grant to one who is proud of the little blood from Hol- 
land that he happens to possess, the privilege of showing at 
least one of the phases of his own side of the story. But it is 
time to return to our scene in the hut. 

''Chainbearer," commenced Thousandacres, after the pause 
already mentioned had lasted several minutes, and speaking 
with a dignity that could only have proceeded from the inten- 
sity of his feelings ; *' Chainbearer, you've been an inimy to me 
and mine sin' the day we first met. You're an inimy by your 
cruel callin' ; yet you've the boldness to thrust yourself into my 
very hands !" 

" I'm an enemy to all knaves, T'ousantacres, ant I tont care 
who knows it," answered old Andries, sternly ; " t'at ist my 
trate, ast well ast carryin' chain ; ant I wish it to pe known far 
and near. Ast for pein' your enemy by calling', I may say as 
much of yourself; since there coult pe no surveyin', or carryin' 
of chain, tit all t'e people help t'emselves to lant, as you haf 
tone your whole life, wit' out as much as say in' to t'e owners 
*py your leaf.' " 

"Things have now got to a head atween us, Chainbearer," 
returned the squatter; **but seein' that you're in my hands, 
I'm ready and willin' to reason the p'int with you, in hopes that 



334 THE C II A I N B E A R E B . 

we may yet part fri'nds, and that tliis may be tlie last of all our 
troubles. You and I be getting to be oldish men, Chainbearer; 
i\nd it's fittin' that them that be gettin' near their eends, should 
iiometimes think on 'em. I come from no Dutch colony, but 
from a part of the world where mankind fears God, and has 
some thoughts of a futur' state." 

"T'at's neit'er here nor t'ere, T'ousantacres," cried Andries 
impatiently. " Not put what religion is a goot t'ing, and a 
t'ing to be venerated, ant honoret, ant worshipet; put t'at it's 
out of place in a squatter country, and most of all in a squat- 
ter's mout'. Can you telt me one t'ing, T'ousantacres, and t'at 
ist, why you Yankees pray so much, ant call on Got to pless 
you every o'ter wort, and turn up your eyes, ant look so temure 
of Suntays, and ten go ant squat yourselfs town on a Tutch- 
man's lant on a Montay ? I'm an olt man, ant haf lifed long 
ant seen much, and hope I unterstant some of t'at which I haf 
seen and lifed amongst, put I do not comprehent t'at ! Yankee 
religion ant Tutch religion cannot come out of t'e same piple." 

"I should think not, I should think not, Chainbearer; and 
I ho2^e not, in the bargain. I do not wish to be justified by 
ways like your'n, or a religion like your'n. That which is 
foreordained will come to pass, let what will happen, and that's 
my trust. But, leaving religion out of this matter atween us 
altogether " 

" Ay, you'll do well to do t'at," growled Chainbearer, " for 
religion hast inteet very little to do wit' it." 

'* I say," answered Thousandacres, on a higher key, as if 
resolute to make himself heard, *' leaving religion for Sabba' 
days and proper occasions, I'm ready to talk this matter over 
on the footin' of reason, and not only to tell you my say, but 
to hear your'n, as is right atween man and man." 

'■'■ I confess a strono; desire to listen to what Thousandacres 
has to say in defence of his conduct, Chainbearer," I now 
thought it best to put in ; " and I hope you will so far oblige 
me as to be a patient listener. I am very willing that you 
should answer, for I know of no person to whom I would 



THE CIIAINBEARER. 335 

sooner trust a religious cause than yourself. Proceed, Thous- 
andacres ; my old friend will comply," 

Andries did conform to my wishes, thus distinctly expressed, 
but it was not without sundry signs of disquiet, as expressed 
in his honest countenance, and a good deal of subdued mutter- 
ing about "Yankee cunnin' and holy gotliness, t'at is dresset 
up in wolf's clot'in;" Chainbearer meaning to express the 
native garment of the sheep by the latter expression, but 
falling into a confusion of images that is by no means rare 
among the men of his caste and people. After a pause the 
squatter proceeded. 

" In talkin' this matter over, young man, I purpose to begin 
at the beginnin' of things," he said ; " for I allow, if you grant 
any value to titles, and king's grants, and sich sort of things, 
that my rights here be no great matter. But, beginnin' at the 
beginnin', the case is very different. You'll admit, I s'pose, 
that the Lord created the heavens and the 'arth, and that he 
created man to be master over the last." 

" What of t'at ?" eagerly cried Chainbearer. *' "What of t'at, 
olt T'ousantacres ? So t'e Lort createt y outer eagle t'at is flyin' 
so far apove your heat, put it's no sign you are to kill him, or 
he ist to kill you." 

" Hear to reason, Chainbearer, and let me have my say ; a'ter 
which I'm willing to hear you. I begin at the beginnin', when 
man was first put in possession of the 'arth, to till, and to dig, 
and to cut saw-logs, and to make lumber, jist as it suited his 
wants and inclinations. Now, Adam was the father of all, and 
to him and his posterity was the possession of the 'arth given, 
by Him whose title's worth that of all the kings, and governors, 
and assemblies in the known world. Adam lived his time, and 
left all things to his posterity, and so has it been from father to 
son, down to our own day and giniration, accordin' to the law 
of Grod, though not accordin' to the laws of man." 

" Well, admittin' all you say, squatter, how does t'at make 
your right here petter fan t'at of any ot'er man ?" demanded 
Andries, disdainfully. 



.S3G THE CHAINBEARER. 

*' Why, reason tells us where a man's rights begin, you'll see, 
Chainbearer. Here is the 'arth, as I told you, given to man, to 
be used for his wants. When you and I are born, some parts 
of the world is in use, and some parts isn't. We want land, 
when we are old enough to turn our hands to labor, and I make 
my pitch out here in the woods, say where no man has pitched 
afore me. Now, in my judgment that makes the best of titles, 
the Lord's title."* 

"Well, t'en, you've got your title from t'e Lord," answered 
Chainbearer, " and you've got your lant. I s'pose you'll not 
take all t'e 'art' t'at is not yet peoplet, and I shoultliketo know 
how you wilt run your lines petween you ant your next neigh- 
por. Atmittin' you're here in t'e woots, how much of t'e lant 
woult you take for your own religious uses, and how much 
woult you leaf for t'e next comer ?" 

"Each man would take as much as was necessary for his 
wants, Chainbearer, and hold as much as he possessed." 

" Put what ist wants, ant what ist possession ? Look arount 
you, T'ousantacres, and tell me how much of t'is fery spot you'd 
haf a mint to claim, under your Lort's title V 

*' How much ? As much as I have need on — enouorh to feed 

o 

me and mine — and enough for lumber, aud to keep the b'ys 
bus}^ It would somewhat depend on sarcumstances : I might 
want more at one time than at another, as b'ys grew up, and 
the family increased in numbers." 

" Enough for lumper how long? and to keep t'e poys pusy 
how long ? For a tay, or a week, or a life, or a great numper 



* Lest the reader sliould suppose Mr. Mordaunt Littlcpage is Lere recording 
uselessly the silly sayings of a selfish, ignorant and vulgar robber, it may be well to 
add, that doctrines of a calibre, considei-ed in respect of morals and logic, similar to 
ihis, though varying according to circumstances and the points it is desired to estab- 
lish, are constantly published in journals devoted to anti-rentism in the state of New 
York, and men have acted on these principles even to the shedding of blood. \Vc 
purpose, when we come to our third manuscript, which relates to movements of our 
Immediate time, to distinctly lay before the reader some of these strange doctrines ; 
entertaining little doubt that those who originally promulgated them will scarcely 
admire their own theories, when they see them introduced into a work that will con- 
tain the old-fashioned notions of honesty and right. — Editou. 



THE CHAINBEARER. 337 

of lifes? You must tell me t'at, Trousantacrcs, pefore I gif 
cretit to your title." 

" Don't be onreasonable — don't be onreasonable in your 
questions, Cliainbearer ; and I'll answer every one on 'em, and 
in a way to satisfy you, or any judgmatical man. How long 
do I want the lumber ? As long as I've use for it. How long 
do I want to keep the b'ys busy ? Till they're tired of the 
place, and want to change works. When a man's aweary of 
liis pitch, let him give it up for another, selling his betterments, 
of course, to the best chap he can light on." 

" Oh ! you't sell your petterments, woult you ! What ! sell 
t'e Lort's title, olt T'ousantacres ? Part wit' Heaven's gift for 
t'e value of poor miseraple silver and golt?" 

" You don't comprehend Aaron," put in Prudence, who saw 
that Chainbearer was likely to get the best of the argument, 
and who was always ready to come to the rescue of any of her 
tribe, whether it might be necessary with words, or tooth and 
-nail, or the rifle. "You don't, by no manner of means, com- 
prehend Aaron, Chainbearer. His idee is, that the Lord has 
made the'arth for his crittur's ; that any one that wants Land, 
has a right to take as much as he wants, and to use it as long 
as he likes ; and when he has done, to part with his betterments 
for sich price as may be agreed on.'* 

"I stick to that," joined in the squatter, with a loud hem, 
like a man who was sensible of relief; ''that's my idee, and 
I'm determined to live and die by it," 

"You've lifed py it, I know very well, T'ousantacres; ant, 
now you're olt, it's quite likely you'll tie py it. As for com- 
prehentin', you don't comprehent yourself. I'll just ask you, 
in the first place, how much lant do you holt on t'is very spot ? 
You're here squattet so completely ant finally as to haf puilt a 
milL Now t<jll me how much lant you holt, t'at when I como 
to squat alongsite of you, our fences may not lap on one anot'er. 
I ask a simple question, ant I hope for a plain ant straight 
answer. Show me t'e pountarics of your tomain, ant how much 
of t'e worlt you claim, ant how much you ton't claim." 
15 



338 THE CHAINBEARER. 

'* I've pretty raucli answered that question already, Cliain- 
bearer. My creed is, that a man has a right to hold all he 
wants, and to want all he holds." 

" Got help t'e men, fen, t'at haf to carry chain petween you 
and your neighpors, T'ousandacres ; a man's wants to-tay may 
tiffer from his wants to-morrow, and to-morrow from t'e next 
tay, ant so on to t'e ent of time ! On your toctrine, not' in' 
woult pe settlet, ant all woult pe at sixes ant sevens." 

*' I don't think I'm fully understood, a'ter all that's been 
said," returned the squatter. " Here's two men start in life at 
the same time, and both Avant farms. Wa-a-l ; there's the 
wilderness, or maybe it isn't all wilderness, though it once was. 
One chooses to buy out betterments, and he does so ; t'other 
plunges in, out o' sight of humanity, and makes his pitch. 
Both them men's in the right, and can hold on to their posses- 
sions, I say, to the eend of time. That is, on the suj)position 
that right is stronger than might." 

"Well, well," answered Chainbearer, a little dryly; "ant 
s'pose one of your men ton't want to puy petterments, put fol- 
lows t'ot'er, ant makes his pitch in t'e wilteniess, also ?" 

" Let him do't, I say ; t'is his right, and the law of the Lord." 

"Put, s'pose bot' your young men want t'e same pit of wilt 
lant !" 

" First come, first sarv'd ; that's my maxim. Let the spryest 
chap have the land. Possession's every thing in settling land 
titles." 

"Well, t'en, to please you, T'ousandacres, we'll let one get 
aheat of t'other, and 1 af his possession first; how much shalt 
he occupy." 

" As much as he wants, I've told you, already." 

" Ay, put wdien his slower frient comes along, ant hast his 
wants too, ant wishes to make his pitch alongsite of his olt 
neighpor, where is t'e pountary petween 'em to be fount?" 

"Let 'em agree on't ! They must be dreadful poor neigh- 
bors, if they can't agree on so small a matter as that," said 
Tobit, who was getting weary of the argument. 



THE CIIAINBEARER. 339 

*' Tobit is right," added the father; "let 'em agree on 
their line, and run it by the eye. Curse on all chains ar.d 
compasses, say I ! They're an invention of the devil, to make 
ill blood in a neighborhood, and to keep strife awake, when our 
Bibles tell us to live in peace with all mankind." 

"Yes, yes, I understant all t'at," returned Chainbearer, a 
little disdainfully. " A Yankee piple ist a fery convenient 
pook. T'ere's aut'ority in it for all sort of toctrines ant worship- 
pin', ant prayin', ant preachin', ant so forth. It's what I call a 
so-forth piple, Mortaunt, and wilt reat packwarts as well ast 
forwarts ; put all t'e chapters into one, if necessary, or all t'e 
verses into chapters. Sometimes St. Luke is St. Paul, and St. 
John ist St. Matt'ew. I've he'rt your tominies expount, and 
no two expount alike. Novelties ist t'e religion of New Eng- 
lant, ant novelties, in t'e shape of ot'er men's lants, is t'e creet 
of her lofely chiltren ! Oh ! yes, I've seen a Yankee piple ! 
Put, this toes'nt settle out two squatters ; hot' of whom wants 
a sartain hill for its lumper ; now, which is to haf it ?" | 

" The man that got there first, I've told you, old Chain- 
bearer, and once tellin' is as good as a thousand. If the first 
comer looked on that hill, and said to himself, * that hill's mine,' 
't is his'n." 

" Well, t'at ist making property fast ! Wast t'at t'e way, 
T'ousantacres, t'at you took up your estate on t'e Mooseridge 
property ?" 

" Sartain — I want no better title. I got here first, and tuck 
up the land, and shall continue to tuck it up, as I want it. 
There's no use in being mealy-mouthed, for I like to speak out, 
though the landlord's son be by !" 

"Oh! you speak out lout enouf, ant plain enouf, and I 
shoultn't wonter if you got tucket up yourself, one tay, for your 
pains. Here ist a tiflficulty, however, t'at I'll just mention, 
T'ousantacres, for your consiteration. You take possession of 
timper-lant, by lookin' at it, you say — " 

"Even lookin' at isn't necessary," returned the .squatter, 
eager to widen the grasp of his rights. "It's enough that a 



340 THE CHAINBEARER. 

man wants the land, and he comes, or sends to secure it. Pos- 
session is every thing, and I call it possession, to crave a spot, 
and to make some sort of calkerlation, or works, reasonably 
near it. That gives a right to cut and clear, and when a clear- 
in's begun, it's betterments, and every body allows that better- 
ments may be both bought and sold." 

"Well, now we understant each o'ter. Put here ist t'e small 
tifficulty I woult mention. One General Littlepage and one 
Colonel Follock took a fancy to t'is spot long pefore t'e olt 
French war ; ant pesites fancy in' t'e place, and sentin' messen- 
gers to look at it, t'ey pought out t'e Injin right in t'e first 
place ; t'en t'ey pought of t'e king, who hat all t'e lant in t'e 
country, at t'at time, ast hatn't ot'er owners. T'en t'ey sent 
surfeyors to run t'e lines, ant t'em very surfeyors passet along 
py t'is river, ast I know py t'eir fielt-pooks (field-books) : t'en 
more surfeyors wast sent out to tivite it into great lots, ant now 
more still haf come to tivite it into small lots : ant t'ey've paid 
quit-rents for many years, ant tone ot'er t'ings to prove t'ey 
want t'is place as much as you want it yourself. T'ey haf hat 
it more ast a quarter of a century, ant exerciset ownership over 
it all t'at time ; ant wantet it very much t'e whole of t'at quar- 
ter of a century, ant, if t'e truit' was sait, want it still." 

A long pause followed this statement, during which the dif- 
ferent members of the family looked at each other, as if in quest 
of support. The idea of there being any other side to the 
question than that they had been long accustomed to consider 
so intently, was novel to them, and they were a little bewildered 
by the extraordinary circumstance. This is one of the great 
difficulties under which the inhabitant of a narrow district la- 
bors, in all that pertains to his personal notions and tastes, and 
a good deal in what relates to his principles. This it is that 
makes the true provincial, with his narrow views, set notions, 
conceit, and unhesitating likes and dislikes. When one looks 
around him and sees how very few are qualified, by experience 
and knowledge of the world, to utter opinions at all, he is apt 
to be astonished at finding how many there are that do it. I 



THE CHAINBEARER. 341 

make no doubt that tlie family of Thousandacres were just as 
M^ell satisfied with their land-ethics, as Paley ever could have 
been with his moral philosophy, or Newton with his mathe- 
matical demonstrations. 

*' I don't wonter you're callet T'ousantacres, Aaron Timper- 
man," continued Chainbearer, pushing his advantage, "for wit' 
such a title to your estate, you might as well pe tarmet Ten 
T'ousantacres at once, ant more, too ! Nay, I wonter, while 
your eyes was trawin' up title teets, t'at you shoult haf peen so 
moterate, for it was just as easy to possess a patent on t'at sort 
of right, as to possess a single farm." 

But Thousandacres had made up his mind to pursue the sub- 
ject no further ; and while it was easy to see that fiery passions 
were burning within him, he seemed now bent on bringing a 
conference, from which he doubtless expected different results, 
to a sudden close. It was with difficulty that he suppressed 
the volcano that was raging within, but he so far succeeded as 
to command Tobit to shut up his prisoner again, 

"Tate him away, b'ys, take him back to the store'us'," 
said the old squatter, rising and moving a little on one side to 
permit Andries to pass, as if afraid to trust himself too near ; 
" he was born the sarvent of the rich, and will die their sarvent. 
Chains be good enough for him, and I wish him no greater 
harm than to carry chains the rest of his days." 

" Oh ! you're a true son of liperty !" called out the Chain- 
bearer, as he quietly returned to his prison ; "a true son of 
liperty, accordin' to your own conceit ! You want eferyt'ing 
in your own way, and eferyt'ing in your own pocket. T'e 
Lort's law is a law for T'ousantacres, put not a law to care for 
Cornelius Littlepage or Tirck Follock !" 

Although my old friend was escorted to his prison, no attempt 
was made to remove me. On the contrary. Prudence joined 
Iier husband without, followed by all her young fry, and for a 
moment I fancied myself forgotten and deserted. A movement 
in one corner of the room, however, drew my attention there, 
and I saw LoAviny standing on tiptoe, with a finger on her lips, 



342 THE CIIAINBEARER. 

the sign of silence, while she made eager gestures with the 
other hand, for me to enter a small passage that communicated 
by means of a ladder Avith the loft of the hut. My moccasins 
were now of great advantage to me. Without pausing to reflect 
on consequences, or to look around, I did as directed, drawing- 
to the door after me. There was a small window in the sort of 
passage in which I now found myself alone with the girl, and 
my first impulse was to force my body through it, for it had 
neither glass nor sash, but Lowiny caught my arms, 

^'Lord ha' massy on us!" whispered the girl — ''you'd be 
seen and taken, or shot ! For your life don't go out there now. 
Here's a hole for a cellar, and there's the trap — go down there, 
and wait 'till you hear news from me." 

There was no time for deliberation, and the sight of Chain- 
bearer's escort, as they proceeded toward the storehouse, satis- 
fied me that the girl was right. She held up the trap, and I 
descended into the hole that answered the purposes of a cellar. 
I heard Lowiny draw a chest over the trap, and then I fancied I 
could distinguish the creaking of the rounds of the ladder, a? 
she went up into the loft, which was the place where she usually 
slept. 

All this occurred literally in about one minute of time. Anoth- 
er minute may have passed, when I heard the heavy tread of 
Thousandacres' foot on the floor above me, and the clamor of 
many voices, all speaking at once. It was evident that I was 
missed, and a search had already been commenced. For half 
a minute, nothing was very intelligible to me ; then I heard the 
shrill voice of Prudence calling for Lowiny. 

"Lowiny — you Lowiny 1" she cried — "where has the gal 
got to ?" 

" I'm here, mother" — answered my friend, from her loft — 
'you told me to come up, and look for your new Bible." 

I presume this was true ; for Prudence had really dispatched 
the girl on that errand, and it must have sufficed to lull any 
suspicions of her daughter's being connected with my disap- 
pearance, if any such had been awakened. The movement of 



THE C 11 A I N B E A R E R . 343 

footsteps was now quick over my head, those of several men 
being among them ; and in the confusion of voices, I heard 
that of Lowiny, who must have descended the hidder and joined 
in the search, 

" He mustn't be allowed to get off, on no account," said 
Thousandacres aloud, "or we're all ondone. Every thing we 
have Avill fall into their hands, and mill, logs, and all, will be 
utterly lost. We shan't even have time to get off the gear and 
the household stuff." 

"He's up-stairs" — cried one — "he must be down cellar," 
said another. Steps went up the ladder, and I heard the chest 
drawn from the trap ; and a stream of light entering the place, 
notified me that the trap was raised. The place I was in was a 
hole twenty feet square, roughly walled with stones, and nearly 
empty, though it did. contain a meat-barrel or two, and a few 
old tubs. In the winter, it would have been filled with vegetables. 
There was no place to hide in, and an attempt at concealment 
would have led to a discovery. I wdthdrew to a corner, in a 
part of the cellar that was quite dark, but thought myself lost 
when I saw a pair of legs descending the ladder. Almost at 
the same moment, three of the men and two of the women 
came into the hole, a fourth female, whom I afterward ascer- 
tained to be Lowiny herself, standing in the trap in such a w^ay 
as to double the darkness below. The first man who got down 
began to tumble the tubs about, and to look into the corners ; 
and the lucky thought occurred to me to do the same thing. 
By keeping as busy as the rest of them, I actually escaped de- 
tection in the dark ; and Tobit soon rushed to the ladder, call- 
ing out, "the window — the window — he's not here — the win- 
dow !" In half a minute the cellar w^as empty again ; or no 
one remained but myself. 

At first I had great difficulty in believing in my good luck ; 
but the trap fell, and the profound stillness of the place satisfied 
me that I had avoided that danger, at least. This escape was 
so singular and unexpected, that I could hardly believe in its 
reality ; though real it was, to all intents and purposes. The 



344 THE C H A I N B E A Pv E R . 

absurd often strikes the imagination in an absurd way ; and so 
it proved with me on this occasion. I sat down on a tub and 
laughed heartily, when I felt absolutely certain all w^as right, 
holding my sides lest the sound of my voice might yet betray 
me. Lowiny was similarly infected, for I heard peals of girlish 
laughter from her, as her brothers tumbled about barrels^ and 
tubs, and bedsteads, in the upper part of the building, in their 
fruitless and hurried search. This merriment did not pass 
unrebuked, however ; Prudence lending her daughter a box on 
the side of the head, that, in one sense, reached even my ears ; 
though it probably aided in saving the girl from the suspicion 
of being in my secret, by the very natural character of her 
girlish indulgence. Two or three minutes after the trap closed 
on me for the second time, the sounds of footsteps and voices 
overhead ceased, and the hut seemed deserted. 

My situation now was far from comfortable. Confined in a 
dark cellar, with no means of escaping but by the trap, and the 
almost certainty of falling into the hands of my captors, should 
I attempt such a thing, I now began to regret having entered 
so readily into Lowiny's scheme. There would be a certain 
loss of dignity in a recapture, that was not pleasant in itself ; 
and I will own, I began to have some doubts of my eventual 
safety, should I again come under the control of such spirits as 
those of Thousandacres and his eldest son. Buried in that 
cellar, I was in a manner placed immediately beneath those 
whose aim it was to secure me, rendering escape impossible, 
and detection nearly unavoidable. 

Such were my meditations when light again streamed into 
the cellar. The trap was raised, and presently I heard my 
name uttered in a whisper. Advancing to the ladder, I saw 
Lowiny holding the door, and beckoning for me to ascend. I 
followed her directions blindly, and was soon at her side. The 
girl was nearly convulsed between dread of detection and a 
desire to laugh ; my emerging from the cellar recalling to her 
imagination all the ludicrous circumstances of the late search. 

" Warn't it queer that none on 'em know'd you !" she whis- 



THE CIIAINBEARER. 345 

pered ; tlien commanding silence by a hasty gesture. *' Don't 
speak; for they're s'archin' still, cluss by, and some on 'em 
may follow me here. I wanted to get you out of the cellar, as 
some of the young-uns will be rummagin' there soon for pork 
for supper ; and their eyes are as sharp as needles. Don't you 
think you could crawl into the mill ? It's stopped now, and 
wun't be goin' ag'in till this stir's over." 

"I should be seen, my good girl, if any of your people are 
looking for me near at hand." 

" I don't know that. Come to the door, and you'll see there 
is a way. Every body's lookin' on the right side of this house ; 
and by creepin' as far as them logs, you'd be pretty safe. If 
you reach the mill safely, climb up into the loft." 

I took a moment to survey the chances. At the distance of 
a hundred feet from the house there commenced a large bed of 
saw-logs, which were lying alongside of each other ; and the 
timber being from two to four feet in diameter, it would be 
very possible to creep among it, up to the mill itself, into 
which even several of the logs had been rolled. The great 
difficulty would be in reaching the logs through a perfectly 
open space. The house would be a cover, as against most of 
the family, who were busy examining every thing like a cover 
on its opposite side ; no one supposing for a moment I could 
be near the mill, inasmuch as it stood directly in front of the 
spot where the crowd was collected at the moment of my 
sudden disappearance. But the boys and girls were flying 
around in all directions ; rendering it uncertain how long they 
would remain in a place, or how long their eyes would be turned 
away from my path. 

It was necessary to do something, and I determined to make 
an effort. Throwing myself on the gi'ound, I crawled, rather 
slowly than fast, across that terrible space, and got safely among 
the logs. As there was no outcry, I knew I had not been 
seen. It was now comparatively easy to reach the mill. An- 
other dangerous experiment, however, was to expose my person 
by cHrabing up to the loft. I could not do this without run- 



346 



THE CIIAINBEARER. 



ning the risk of being seen ; and I felt tlie necessity of using 
great caution. I first raised my liead high enough to survey 
the state of things without. Luckily the house was still be- 
tween me and most of my enemies ; though the small fry con- 
stantly came into view and vanished. I looked round for a 
spot to ascend, and took a final survey of the scene. There 
Rtood Lowiny in the door of the hut, her hands clasped, and 
her whole air expressive of concern. She saw my head, I 
knew, and I made a gesture of encouragement, which caused 
her to start. At the next instant my foot was on a brace, and 
my body was rising to the beams above. I do not think my 
person was uncovered ten seconds ; and no clamor succeeded. 
I now felt there were really some chances of my finally effecting 
an escape, and glad enough was I to think so. 




THE CHAINBEARER. 



CHAPTER XXIII. 

"Alone, amid the shades. 
Still in harmonious intercourse they livVl 
The rural day, and talked the flowing heart, 
Or sighVl, and looked unutterable things." 

Thomson. 

That was a somewliat breathless moment. The intensity 
with which I listened for any sound that might announce my 
discovery, was really painful. I almost fancied I heard a shout, 
but none came. Then I gave myself up, actually believing 
that footsteps were rushing toward the mill, with a view to 
seize me. It was imagination ; the rushing of the waters be- 
low being the only real sound that disturbed the silence of the 
place. I had time to breathe, and to look about me. 

As might be supposed, the mill was very rudely constructed. 
I have spoken of a loft, but there was nothing that really de- 
served the term. Some refuse boards were laid about, here 
and there, on the beams, making fragments of rough flooring ; 
and my first care was to draw several of these boards close 
together, placing them two or three in thickness, so as to make 
a place where, by lying down, I could not be seen by any one 
who should happen to enter the mill. There lay what the 
millers call a bunch of cherry-wood boards at no great distance 
from the spot where the roof joined the plate of the building, 
and within this bunch I arranged my hiding-place. No osten- 
sible change was necessary to complete it, else the experiment 
might have been hazardous among those who were so much ac- 
customed to note circumstances of that nature. The manner in 
which the lumber was arranged when I reached the spot was so 
little different from what it was when I had done with it, as 
scarcely to attract attention. 



348 THE CHAINBEARER. 

No sooner was my Liding-place completed to mj mind, than 
I looked round to see if there were any means of making ob- 
servations without. The building was not shingled, but the 
rain was kept out by placing slabs up and down, as is often 
seen in the ruder rustic frontier architecture of America. 
With the aid of my knife, I soon had a small hole between 
two of these slabs, at a place favorable to such an object ; and, 
though it was no larger than the eye itself, it answered eveiy 
purpose. Eagerly enough did I now commence my survey. 

The search was still going on actively. Those experienced 
bordermen well knew it was not possible for me to cross the 
open ground and to reach the woods in the short interval of 
time between my disappearance and their discovery of the fact, 
and they consequently felt certain that I was secreted some- 
where near the building. Every house had been searched, 
though no one thought of entering the mill, because my move- 
ment, as all supposed, was necessarily in an opposite direction. 
The fences were examined, and every thing like a cover on the 
proper side of the house was looked into with care and activity. 
It would seem that, just as I took my first look through the 
hole, ray pursuers were at fault. The search had been made, 
and of course without effect. Nothing likely to conceal me re- 
mained to be examined. It was necessary to come to a stand, 
and to concert measures for a further search. 

The family of squatters were too much accustomed to their 
situation and its hazards, not to be familiar with all the expedi- 
ents necessary to their circumstances. They placed the younger 
children on the look-out, at the points most favorable to my re- 
treat, should I be in a situation to attempt going off in that 
quarter of the clearing; and, then the father collected his older 
sons around him, and the whole cluster of them, seven in num- 
ber, came slowly walking toward the mill. The excitement of 
the first pursuit had sensibly abated, and these practised woods- 
men were in serious consultation on the measures next to be 
taken. In this condition, the whole party entered the mill, 
taking their seats, or standing directly beneath my post, and 



THE CHAINBEARER. 349 

within six feet of me. As a matter of course, I heard all that 
was said, though completely hid from vieAV. 

"Here we shall be safe from the long ears of little folks," 
said the father, as he placed his own large frame on the log 
that was next to be sawed. " This has been a most onaccount- 
able thing, Tobit, and I'd no idee at all them 'ere city-bred 
gentry was so expart with their legs. I sometimes think he 
can't be a Littlepage, but that he's one of our hill folks, tossed 
out and mannered a'ter the towns' folks, to take a body in. It 
seems an onpossibility that the man should get off, out of the 
midst on us, and we not see or hear any thing on him ?" 

"We may as well give up the lumber and the betterments, 
at once," growled Tobit, "as let him get clear. Should he 
reach Ravensnest, the first thing he'd do would be to swear out 
warrants ag'in us all, and Newcome is not the man to stand by 
squatters in trouble. He'd no more dare deny his landlord, 
than deny his meetin'." 

This expression of Tobit's is worthy of notice. In the estima- 
tion of a certain class of religionists among us, the " meetin','* 
as the young squatter called his church, had the highest place 
in his estimate of potentates and powers ; it is to be feared, 
often even higher than the dread Being for whose worship that 
" meetin' " existed. 

" I don't think as hard of the 'squire as all that," answered 
Thousandacres. "He'll never send out a warrant ag'in us, 
without sendin' out a messenger to let us hear of it, and that in 
time to get us aU out of the way." 

"And who's to get the boards in the creek out of the way 
afore the water rises ? And who's to hide or carry off all them 
logs ? There's more than a ton weight of my blood and bones 
in them very logs, in the shape of hard labor, and I'll fight like 
a she-bear for her cubs afore I'll be driven from them without 
pay."^ 

It is very surprising that one who set this desperate value on 
the property he deemed his, should have so little regard for that 
which belonged to other persons. In this respect, however, 



350 THE CIIAINBEARER. 

Tobit's feeling was no more tlian submission to the general law 
of our nature, which reverses the images before our moral 
vision, precisely as we change our own relations to them. 

"It would go hard with me afore I should give up the lum- 
ber or the clearinV' returned Thousandacres, with emphasis. 
" We've fit King George for liberty, and why shouldn't we 
fight for our property ? Of what use is liberty at all, if it won't 
bear a man harmless out of a job of this sort ? I despise sich 
liberty, b'ys, and want none on it." 

All the young men muttered their approbation of such a 
sentiment, and it was easy enough to understand that the ele- 
vated notion of personal rights entertained by Thousandacres 
found an answerinor echo in the bosom of each of his heroic 
sons. I dare say the same sympathy would have existed be- 
tween them, had they been a gang of pickpockets collected in 
council in a room of the Black Horse, St. Catharine's Lane, 
"Wapping, London. 

"But what can we do with the young chap, father, should 
we take him ag'in?" asked Zephaniah ; a question, as all will 
see, of some interest to myself. " He can't be kept a great 
while without having a stir made a'ter him, and that would 
break us up, sooner or later. We may have a clear right to 
the work of our hand ; but, on the whull, I rather conclude the 
country is ag'in squatters." 

"Who cares for the country?" answered Thousandacres 
fiercely. " If it wants young Littlepage, let it come and s'arch 
for him, as we've been doin'. If that chap falls into my hands 
once more, he never quits 'em alive, unless he gives me a good 
and sufficient deed to two hundred acres, includin' the mill, 
and a receipt in full, on his father's behalf, for all back claims. 
On them two principles my mind is set, and not to be altered." 

A long pause succeeded this bold announcement, and I began 
to be afraid that my suppressed breathing might be overheard 
in the profound stillness that followed. But Zephaniah spoke 
in time to relieve me from this apprehension, and in a way to 
satisfy me that the party below, all of whom were concealed 



THE CHAIN BEARER. 351 

from my siglit, had been pondering on what had been said by 
their leader, and not listening to detect any tell-tale sounds 
from me. 

'Tve heern say," Zephaniah remarked, **that deeds gi'n in 
that way won't stand good in law. 'Squire Newcomc -was 
talkin' of sich transactions the very last time I was out at the 
Nest." 

" I wish a body could find out what loould stand good in 
law!'* growled Thousandacres. "They make their laws, and 
lay great account in havin' 'em obsarved ; and then, when a 
man comes into court with every thing done accordin' to their 
own rules, five or six attorneys start up and bawl out, ' This is 
ag'in law !' If a deed is to set forth so and so, and is to have 
what they call * hand and seal and date' beside ; and sich bein' 
the law, I want to know why an instrument so made won't 
hold good by their confounded laws ? Law is law, all over the 
world, I s'pose ; and though it's an accursed thing, if men agree 
to have it they ought to stand by their own rules. I've thought 
a good deal of squeezin' writin's out of this young Littlepage ; 
and just as my mind's made up to do't if I can lay hands on 
him ag'in, you come out and tell me sich writin's be good for 
nothin'. Zeph, Zeph — you go too often out into them settle- 
ments, and get your mind pervarted by their wickedness and 
talk." 

"I hope not, father, though I own I do like to go there. 
I've come to a time of life when a man thinks of marryin' j 
and there bein' no gal here, unless it be one of my own sisters, 
it's nat'ral to look into the next settlement. I'll own sich has 
been my object in going to the Nest." 

" And you've found the gal you set store by ? Out with the 
whull truth, like a man. You know I've always been set ag'in 
lyin', and have ever endeavored to make the whull of you speak 
truth. How is it, Zephaniah ? have you found a gal to your 
mind, and who is't ? Ourn is a family into w hich any body can 
come by askin', you'll remember." 

**Lord, father ! Dus Malbone would no more think of askin 



352 THE CIIAINBEARER. 

me to have Ler, tlian she'd tliink of marry in' you ! I've offered 
three times, ^nd she's told me, as plam as a woman could speak, 
that she couldn't nohow consent, and that I hadn't ought to 
think of her any longer." 

" Who is the gal, in this part of the country, that holds her 
head so much higher than one of Thousandacres' sons?" de- 
manded the old squatter, with some such surprise, real or affect- 
ed, as a Bourbon might be supposed to feel at having his alliance 
spurned on the score of blood. "I'd like to see her, and to 
convarse with this young woman. What did you call her name, 
Zcph ?" 

"Dus Malbone, father, and the young woman that lives 
with Chainbearer. She's his niece, I b'lieve, or something of 
that sort." 

"Hal Chainbearer's niece, d'ye say? His taken da'ghter. 
Isn't there some mistake ?" 

"Dus Malbone calls old Andries 'Uncle Chainbearer,' and 
I s'pose from that she's his niece." 

"And you've offered to marry the gal three times, d'ye tell 
me, Zephaniah?" 

" Three times, father ; and every time she has given ' no' for 
her answer." 

" The fourth time, maybe, she'll change her mind. I wonder 
if we couldn't lay hands on this gal, and bring her into our 
settlement ? Does she live with Chainbearer, in his hut out 
here in the woods ?" 

"She doos, father." 

" And doos she set store by her uncle ? or is she one of the 
flaunty sort that thinks more of herself and gownd, than she 
does of her own flesh and blood? Can you tell me that, 
Zeph ?" 

" In my judgment, father, Dus Malbone loves Chainbearer as 
much as she would was he her own father." 

"Ay, some gals haven't half the riverence and love for their 
own fathers that they should have. What's to prevint your 
goin', Zephaniah, to Chainbearer's pitch, and tell the gal that 



THE CIIAINBEARER. 353 



her uncle's in distress, and tliat you don't know what may hap 
pen to him, and that she had better come over and see a'ter 
him ? When we get her here, and she understands the natur' 
of the case, and you put on your Sabba'-day clothes, and we 
send for 'Squire Newcome, you may find yourself a married man 
sooner than you thought for, my son, and settle down in life. 
A'ter that, there'll not be much danger of Chainbearer's tellin' 
on us, or of his great fri'nd here, this Major Littlepagc's troub- 
lin' the lumber afore the water rises." 

A murmur of applause followed this notable proposal, and I 
fancied I could hear a snigger from the young man, as if he 
found the project to his mind, and thought it might be feasible. 

"Father," said Zephaniah, ''I wish you'd call Lowiny here, 
and talk to her a little about Dus Malbone. There she is, with 
Tobit's wife and mother, looking round among the cabbages, as 
if a man could be hid in such a place." 

Thousandacres called to his daughter in an authoritative 
way; and I soon heard the girl's step, as she came, a little 
hesitatingly as I fancied, into the mill. As it would be very 
natural to one in Lowiny's situation to suppose that her con- 
nection with my escape occasioned this summons, I could not 
but feel for what I presumed w^as the poor girl's distress at re- 
ceiving it. 

" Come here, Lowiny," commenced Thousandacres, in the 
stern manner with which it was his wont to speak to his chil- 
dren ; come nearer, gal. Do you know any thing of one Dus 
Malbone, Chainbearer's niece ?" 

" Lord ha' massy ! Father, how you did frighten me ! I 
thought you might have found the gentleman, and s'posed I'd 
a hand in helpin' to hide him !" 

Singular as it may seem, this burst of conscience awakened 
no suspicion in any of the listeners. When the girl thus be- 
trayed herself, I very naturally expected that such an examina- 
tion would follow as would extort the whole details from her. 
Not at all, however; neither the father nor any of the sons 
understood the indiscreet remarks of the girl, but imputed 



354 THE C II A I N B E A II E R . 

tlicm to tlie excitement that had just existed, and the circiini- 
stance that her mind had, naturally enough, been dwelling on 
its cause. It is. probable that the very accidental manner of 
my evasion, which precluded the attaching of suspicious facts 
to what had really occurred, favored Lowiny on this occasion ; 
it being impossible that she should be suspected of any thing 
of that character. 

*' Who's talkin' or thinkin' now of young Littlepage, at all?" 
returned Thousandacres a little angrily. '' I ask if you know 
any thing of Chainbearer's niece — one Dus Malbone, or Mal- 
come ?" 

'' I do know suthin' of her, father," answered Lowiny, will- 
ing enough to betray one-^the lesser — of her secrets, in order 
to conceal the other, which, on all accounts, was much the 
most important ; " though I never laid eyes on her "till to-day. 
Zeph has often talked to me of the gal that carried chain with 
her uncle for a whuU month ; and he has a notion to marry her 
if he can get her." 

"Never laid eyes on her 'till to-day! Whereabouts have 
you laid eyes on her to-day^ gal ? Is all creation comin' in upon 
mv clearin' at once ? Whereabouts have you seen this gal to- 
day ?" 

" She come to the edge of the clearin' with her uncle, 
and—" 

" Well, what next ? Why don't you go on, Lowiny ?" 

I could have told Thousandacres why his daughter hesitated; 
but the girl got out of the scrape by her own presence of mind 
and ingenuity, a little aided, perhaps, by some practice in sins 
of the sort. 

*' Why, I went a berry in' this forenoon, and up ag'in the 
berry lot, just in the edge of the woods, I saw a young woman, 
and that was the Malbone gal. So we talked together, and 
she told me all about it. She's waitin' for her uncle to come 
back." 

"So, so; this is news indeed, b'ys! Do you know where 
the gal is now, Lowiny ?" 



THE CIIAINBEARER. 355 

*' Not just now, for she told me slie should go deeper into 
the woods, lest she should be seen ; but an hour afore sundown 
she's to come to the foot of the great chestnut, just ag'in the 
berry lot ; and I promised to meet her, or to carry her out 
suthin' for supper, and to make a bed on." 

This was said frankly, and with the feeling and sympathy 
that females are apt to manifest in behalf of each other. It was 
evident Lowiny's audience believed every word she had said ; 
and the old man, in particular, determined at once to act. I 
heard him move from his seat, and his voice sounded like one 
who was retiring, as he said : 

" Tobit — b'ys — come with me, and we'll have one more 
look for this young chap through the lumber and the housen. 
It may be that he's stolen in there while our eyes have been 
turned another way. Lowiny, you needn't come with us, for 
the flutterin' way of you gals don't do no good in sich a 
s'arch." 

I waited until the last heavy footstep was inaudible, and 
then ventured to move far enough, on my hands, to find a crack 
that I had purposely left, with a view to take through it an oc- 
casional look below. On the log which her father had just left, 
Lowiny had seated herself. Her eye was roaming over the 
upper part of the mill, as if in quest of me. At length she said, 
in a suppressed voice. — 

" Be you here still ? Father and the b'ys can't hear us now, 
if you speak low." 

" I am here, good Lowiny, thanks to your friendly kindness, 
and have overheard all that passed. You saw Ursula Malbone, 
and gave her my note ?" 

*' As true as you are there, I did; and she read it over so 
often, I guess she must know it by heart." 

*'But what did she say ? Had she no message for her uncle 
— no answer to what I had written ?" 

" Oh ! she'd enough to say — gals love to talk, you know, 
when they get with one another, and Dus and I talked together 
half an hour, or longer. She'd plenty "to say, though it wunt 



356 THE CHAINBEARER. 

do for me to sit here and tell it to you, lest somebody wonder 
I stay so long in the mill." 

*' You can tell me if she sent any message, or answer to my 
note ?" 

** She never breathed a syllable about what you'd writ. I 
warrant you she's close-mouthed enough, when she gets a line 
from a young man. Do you think her so desp'rate handsome 
as Zeph says she is ?" 

This boded ill, but it was a question that it was politic to 
answer, and to answer with some little discretion. If I lost the 
services of Lowiny, my main stay was gone. 

'' She is well enough to look at, but I've seen quite as hand- 
some young women, lately. But, handsome or not, she is one 
of your own sex, and is not to be deserted in her trouble." 

" Yes, indeed," answered Lowiny, with an expression of 
countenance that told me at once, the better feelings of her sex 
had all returned again, *' and I'll not desart her, though father 
drive me out of the settlement. I am tired of all this squatting, 
and think folks ought to live as much in one spot as they can. 
What's best to be done about Dus Malbone — perhaps she'd 
like well enough to marry Zeph ?" 

"Did you see or hear any thing while with her, to make 
you think so ? I am anxious to know what she said." 

''La! She said sights of things; but most of her talk was 
about old Chainbearer. She never named your name so much 
as once !" 

"Did she name Zephaniah's? I make no doubt that anxiety 
on account of her uncle was her chief care. What are her 
intentions, and will she remain near that tree until you come ?" 

" She stays under a rock not a great way from the tree, and 
there she'll stay till I go to meet her, at the chestnut. We had 
our talk under that rock, and it's easy enough to find her there." 

" How do things look around us ? Might I descend, slip 
down into the bed of the river, and go round to Dus Malbone, 
so as to give her notice of the danger she is in ?" 

Lowiny did not answer me for near a minute, and I began to 



THE CHAIN BEARER. 357 

fear that I Lad put another indiscreet question. The girl seemed 
thoughtful, but when she raised her face so high as to allow me 
to see it, all the expression of the more generous feminine 
sympathy was visible. 

" 'Twould be hard to make Dus have Zeph, if she don't like 
him, wouldn't it !" she said with emphasis. " I don't know 
but t'would be better to let her know what's coming, so that 
she can choose for herself." 

** She told me," I answered, with perfect truth, " that she is en- 
gaged to another, and it would be worse than cruel — it would be 
wicked, to make her marry one man, while she loves another." 

*' She shan't do'tl" cried the girl, with an animation that 
I thought dangerous. But she gave me no opportunity for 
remonstrance, as, all her energies being aroused, she went to 
work in earnest to put me in the way of doing what I most 
desired to achieve. 

"D'ye see the lower corner of the mill," she continued, 
hurriedly. " That post goes down to the rock over which the 
water falls. You can walk to that corner without any danger 
of being seen, as the ruff hides you, and when you get there, 
you can wait till I tell you to get on the post. 'Twill be easy 
to slide down that post to the rock, and there'll be not much of 
a chance of being seen, as the post will nearly hide you. When 
you're on the rock, you'll find a path that leads along the creek 
till you come to a foot-bridge. If you cross that log, and take 
the left-hand path, 'twill bring you out near the edge of the 
clearin', up on the hill again, and then you'll have only to 
follow the edge of the woods a little way, afore you come to 
the chestnut. The rock is right off, ag'in the chestnut, only 
about fifty rods." 

I took in these directions eagerly, and was at the post almost 
as soon as the girl ceased speaking. In order to do this I had 
only to walk on the boards that lay scattered about on the girts 
of the mill, the roof completely concealing the movement from 
any on its outside. I made my arrangements, and only waited 
for a signal, or the direction from Lowiny, to proceed. 



358 THE CHAIN BEARER. 

"Not yet," said the girl, looking down and affecting to be 
occupied with something near her feet. " Father and Tobit 
are walkin' this way, and lookin' right at the mill. Now — get 
ready — they've turned their heads, and seem as if they'd turn 
round themselves next. They've turned away ag'in ; wait one 
moment — now's a good time — don't go away altogether without 
my seein' you once more." 

I heard these last words, but it was while sliding down the 
post. Just as my head came so low as to be in a line with the 
objects scattered about the floor of the mill, I clung to the post 
to catch one glimpse of what was going on without. Thousand- 
acres and Tobit were about a hundred yards distant, walking 
apart from the group of young men, and apparently in deep 
consultation together. It was quite evident no alarm was taken, 
and down I slid to the rock. At the next moment I was in the 
path, descending to the foot-bridge, a tree that had been felled 
across the stream. Until that tree was crossed, and a slight 
distance of the ascent on the other side of the stream, along 
the left-hand path was overcome, I was completely exposed to 
the observation of any one who might be in a situation to look 
down into the glen of the river. At almost any other moment 
at that particular season, my discovery would have been nearly 
certain, as some of the men or boys were always at work in the 
water ; but the events of that morning called them elsewhere, 
and I made the critical passage, a distance of two hundred 
yards or more, in safety. As soon as I entered behind a cover, 
my speed abated, and having risen again to the level of the 
dwellings, or even a little above them, I profited by openings 
among the small pine-bushes that fringed the path, to take a 
survey of the state of things among the squatters. 

There the cluster of heavy, lounging young men Avas, Thou- 
sandacres and Tobit walking apart, as when last seen. Prudence 
was at the door of a distant cabin, surrounded, as usual, by a 
collection of the young fry, and conversing herself, eagerly, 
with the wives of two or three of her married sons. Lowiny 
had left the mill, and was strolling along the opposite side of tlie 



THE CIIAINBEARER. 859 

glen, so near the verge of the rocks as to have enabled her to see 
the whole of my passage across the open space. Perceiving that 
she was quite alone, I ventured to hem just loud enough to 
reach her ear. A hurried, frightened gesture assured me that 
I had been heard, and, first making a gesture for mc to go 
forward, the girl turned away, and went skipping off toward 
tlie cluster of females who surrounded her mother. 

As for myself, I now thought only of Dus. What cared I if 
she did love another? A girl of her education, manners, sen- 
timents, birth and character, was not to be sacrificed to one 
like Zephaniah, let what might happen ; and could I reach her 
place of concealment in time, she might still be saved. These 
thoughts fairly winged my flight, and I soon came in sight of 
the chestnut. Three minutes later I laid a hand on the trunk 
of the tree itself. As I had been a quarter of an hour at least, 
in making the circuit of that side of the clearing, some material 
change might have occuiTed among the squatters, and I deter- 
mined to advance to the edge of the bushes, in Lowiny's 
"berry lot," which completely screened the spot, and ascertain 
the facts, before I sought Dus at her rock. 

The result showed that some measures had been decided on 
between Thousandacres and Tobit. Not one of the males, a 
lad that stood sentinel at the storehouse, and a few of the small- 
er boys excepted, was to be seen. I examined all the visible 
points with care, but no one w^as visible. Even Susquesus, who 
had been lounging about the whole day, or since his liberation, 
had vanished. Prudence and her daughters, too, were in a 
great commotion, hurrying from cabin to cabin, and manifest- 
ing all that restlessness which usually denotes excitement among 
females. I stopped but a moment to ascertain these leading 
circumstances, and turned to seek the rock. While retiring 
from among the bushes, I heard the fallen branch of a tree snap 
under a heavy footstep, and looking cautiously around, saw 
Jaaf, or Jaap as we commonly called him, advancing toward me, 
carrying a rifle on each shoulder. 

" Heaven's blessings on you, my faithful Jaap !" I cried, 



3G0 THE CIIAINBEARER. 

holding out an arm to receive one of tlie weapons. '* You 
come at a most happy moment, and can lead me to Miss Mai- 
bone." 

*' Yes, sah, and glad to do it, too. Miss Dus up here, a bit, 
in 'e wood, and can werry soon see her. She keep me down 
here to look out, and I carry bot' rifle, Masser Chainbearer's 
and my own, 'cause Miss Dus no great hand wid gunpowder. 
But, where you cum from, Masser Mordaunt ? — and why you 
run away so, in night-time?" 

" Never mind just now, Jaap — in proper time you shall 
know all about.it. Now we must take care of Miss Ursula. 
Is she uneasy? has she shown any fear on her uncle's ac- 
count ?" 

" She cry half 'e time, sah — den she look up bold, and reso- 
lute, just like ole Masser, sah, when he tell he rijjement 'charge 
baggonet,' and seem as if she want to go right into T'ousand- 
acres' huts. Lor' bless me, sah, Masser Mordaunt — if she ask 
me one question about you to-day, she ask me a hundred !" 

" About me, Jaap !" But I arrested the impulsive feeling in 
good time, so as not to be guilty of pumping my own servant 
concerning what others had said of me ; a meanness I could 
not easily have pardoned in myself. But I increased my speed, 
and having Jaap for my guide, was soon at the side of Dus. 
The negro had no sooner pointed out to me the object of my 
search, than he had the discretion to return to the edo-e of the 
clearing, carrying with him both rifles ; for I returned to him 
the one I had taken, in my eagerness to hurry forward, the in- 
stant I beheld Dus. 

I can never forget the look with which that frank, noble- 
hearted girl received me ! It almost led me to hope that my 
ears had deceived me, and that, after all, I was an object of 
the highest interest with her. A few tears, half-suppressed, 
but suppressed with difficulty, accompanied that look ; and I 
had the happiness of holding for some time and of pressing to 
my heart, that little hand that was freely — nay, warmly ex- 
tended to me. 



THE CHAINBEARER. 361 

*• Let lis quit tliis spot at once, dearest Ursula," I cried, tlw) 
moment I could speak. ** It is not safe to remain near that 
family of wretclies, who live by depredation and violence." 

" And leave uncle Chainbearer in their hands ?" answered 
Dus, reproachfully. "You, surely, would not advise me to do 
that?" 

** If your own safety demands it, yes — a thousand times, yes. 
We must fly, and there is not a moment to lose. A design 
exists among those wretches to seize you, and to make use of 
your fears to secure the aid of your uncle in extricating them 
from the consequences of this discovery of their robberies. 
It is not safe, I repeat, for you to remain a minute longer 
here." 

The smile that Dus now bestowed on me was very sweet, 
though I found it inexplicable ; for it had as much of pain and 
suffering in it, as it had of that which was winning. 

" Mordaunt Littlepage, have you forgotten the words spoken 
by me when we last parted ?" she asked, seriously. 

*' Forgotten ! I can* never forget them ! They drove me 
nearly to despair, and were the cause of bringing us all into this 
difficulty." 

" I told you that my faith was already plighted — that I could 
not accept your noble, frank, generous, manly offer, because 
another had my troth." 

*' You did — you did. Why renew my misery — " 

" It is with a different object that I am now more explicit. 
That man to whom I am pledged is in those huts, and I cannot 
desert him." 

" Can I believe my senses ! Do you — can you — is it possi- 
ble that one like Ursula Malbone can love Zephaniah Thou- 
sandacres — a squatter himself, and the son of a squatter?" 

The look with which Dus regarded me, said at once that her 
astonishment was quite as great as my own. I could have bit- 
ten off my hasty and indiscreet tongue, the instant it had 
spoken ; and I am sure the rush of tell-tale blood in my face 
must have proclaimed to my companion that I felt most 
10 



362 THE C 11 A I N B E A R E R . 

thoroughly ashamed of myself. This feeling was deepened 
nearly to despair, when I saw the expression of abased morti- 
fication that came over the sweet and usually happy counte- 
nance of Dus, and the difficulty she had in suppressing her 
tears. 

Neither spoke for a minute, when my companion broke 
silence by saying steadily — I might almost add solemnly — 

" This, indeed, shows how low my fortune has become ! But 
I pardon you, Mordaunt; for, humble as that fortune is, you 
Lave spoken nobly and frankly in my behalf, and I exonerate 
you from any feeling that is not perfectly natural for the cir- 
cumstances. Perhaps" — and a bright blush suffused the coun- 
tenance of Das as she said it — "Perhaps I may attribute the 
great mistake into which you have fallen to a passion that is 
most apt to accompany strong love, and insomuch prize it, in- 
stead of throwing it away with contempt. But, between you 
and me, whatever comes of it, there must be no more mistakes. 
The man to whom nay faith is plighted, and to whom my time 
and services are devoted, so long as oire or both of us live, is 
uncle Chainbearer, and no other. Had you not rushed from me 
int he manner you did, I might have told you this, Mordaunt^ 
the evening you were showing so much noble frankness your- 
self." 

** Dus ! — Ursula I — beloved Miss Malbonc, have I then no 
preferred rival ?" 

'*No man has ever spoken to me of love, but this uncouth 
and rude young squatter, and yourself." 

" Is your heart then untouched? Are you still mistress of 
your own affections ?" 

The look I now received from Dus was a little saucy ; but 
that expression soon changed to one that had more of the deep 
feeling and generous sympathy of her precious sex in it. 

" Were I to answer * yes,* many women would think I was 
heino; no more than true to the rigrhts of a mvl who has been 
so unceremoniously treated ; but " 

"But what, charming, most beloved Ursula? But whatT* 



THE CII AINI3E A KER. 3G3 

"I prefer truth to coquetry, and sliall not attempt to deny 
wliat it would almost be treason against nature to suppose. 
How could a girl, educated as I have been, without any pref- 
erence to tie her to another, be shut up in this forest with a 
man who has treated her with so much kindness and devotion 
and manly tenderness, and insensible to his merits ? Were we 
in the world, Mordaunt, I think I should prefer you to all 
others ; being, as we are, in this forest, I Icnow I do." 

The reader shall not be let into the sacred confidence that 
followed ; any further, at least, than to know the main result. 
A quarter of an hour passed so swiftly, and so sweetly, indeed, 
that I could hardly take it on myself to record one-half that was 
said. Dus made no longer any hesitation in declaring her 
attachment for me ; and though she urged her own poverty as a 
just obstacle to my wishes, it was faintly, as most Americans of 
either sex would do. In this particular, at least, we may fairly 
boast of a just superiority over all the countries of the old world. 
While it is scarcely possible that either man or woman should 
not see how grave a barrier to wedded happiness is interposed 
by the opinions and habits of social castes, it is seldom that any 
one, in his or her own proper sphere, feels that the want of 
money is an insurmountable obstacle to a union — more especially 
when one of the parties is provided with the means of maintain- 
ing the household gods. The seniors may, and do often have 
scruples on this score ; but the young people rarely. Dus and 
myself were in the complete enjoyment of this happy simplicity, 
with my arms around her waist, and her head leaning on my 
shoulder, Avhen I was aroused from a state that I fancied Elys- 
ium, by the hoarse, raven-throated cry of — 

" Here she is ! Here she is, father ! Here they are hoth /" 

On springing forward to face the intruders, I saw Tobit and 
Zephaniah directly before me, with Lowiny standing at no great 
distance behind them. The first looked ferocious, the second 
jealous and angry, the third abashed and mortified. In another 
minute we were surrounded by Thousandacres and all the males 
of his brood. 



864 THE CIIAINBEARER. 



CHAPTER XXiy. 

** My love is young— but other loves are young ; 
And other loves are fair, and so is mine ; 
An air divine discloses whence he sprung ; 
He is my love who boasts that air divine,'* 

Shenstone. 

A MORE rude and violent interruption of a scene in whicli the 
more gentle qualities love to sliow themselves, never occurred. 
I, wlio knew the whole of the past, saw at once that we had 
very serious prospects before us ; but Dus at first felt only the 
consciousness and embarrassment of a woman who has be- 
trayed her most sacred secret to vulgar eyes. That very pas- 
sion, which a month later, and after the exchange of the 
marriage vows, it would have been her glory to exhibit in face 
of the whole community, on the occurrence of any event of 
moment to myself, she now shrunk from revealing ; and I do 
believe that maiden bashfulness gave her more pain, when thus 
arrested, than any other cause. As for the squatters, she prob- 
ably had no very clear conceptions of their true characters ; and 
it was one of her liveliest wishes to be able to join her uncle. 
But, Thousandacres soon gave us both cause to comprehend 
how much he was now in earnest. 

" So, my young major, you're catched in the same nest, be 
you ! You've your ch'ise to walk peaceably back where you 
belong, or to be tied and carried there like a buck that has been 
killed a little out in the woods. You never know'd Thousand- 
acres and his race, if you really thought to slip away from him, 
and that with twenty miles of woods around you !" 

I intimated a wish not to be tied, and professed a perfect 
wilUngness to accompany my captors back to their dwellings ; 



THE CHAINBEARER. 365 

for nothing would have tempted me to desert Dus, under the 
circumstances. The squatters might have declared the road 
open to me, but the needle does not point more unerringly to 
the pole than I should have followed my magnet, though at 
liberty. 

Little more was said until we had quitted the woods, and 
had reached the open fields of the clearing. I was permitted 
to assist my companion through the bushes, and in climbing a 
fence or two ; the squatters, who were armed to a man, forming 
a circle around us, at a distance that enabled me to whisper a 
few words to Dus, in the way of encouragement. She had 
great natural intrepidity for a woman, and I believe I ought to 
escape the imputation of vanity, if I add that we both felt so 
happy at the explanations which had so lately been had, that this 
new calamity could not entirely depress us, so long as we were 
not separated. 

" Be not downhearted, dearest Dus," I whispered, as we ap- 
proached the storehouse; ''after all, these wretches will not 
dare to transgress against the law, very far." 

" I have few fears, with you and uncle Chainbearer so near 
me, Mordaunt," was her smiling answer. *' It cannot be long 
before we hear from Frank, who is gone, as you must have been 
told, to IlaVfensnest, for authority and assistance. He left our 
huts at the same time we left them to come here, and must bo 
on his return long before this." 

I squeezed the hand of the dear girl, receiving a gentle pres- 
sure in return, and prepared myself to be separated from her, 
as I took it for granted that Prudence and her daughters would 
hold watch and ward over the female prisoner. I had hesi- 
tated, ever since quitting the woods, about giving her notice 
of the trial that probably awaited her ; but, as no attempt to 
coerce a marriage could be made until the magistrate arrived, 
I thought it would be rendering her unnecessarily unhappy. 
The trial, if it did come at all, would come soon enough of it- 
self ; and I had no apprehension that one of Dus's spirit and 
character, and who had so recently and frankly admitted that 



366 THE CHAIN BEARER. 

her whole heart was mine, could be frightened into a concession 
that would give Zephaniah any claim to her. To own the truth, 
a mountain had been removed from my own breast, and I was 
too happy on this particular account, to be rendered very miser- 
able on any other, just at that time. I do believe Dus was a 
little sustained by some similar sentiment. 

Dus and I parted at the door of the first house, she being 
transferred to the keeping of Tobit's wife, a woman who was 
well bestowed on her brutal and selfish husband. No violence 
was used, however, toward the prisoner, who was permitted 
to go at large; though I observed that one or two of the 
females attached themselves to her person immediately, no 
doubt as her keepers. 

In consequence of our having approached the dwelling of the 
squatters by a new path, Chainbearer knew nothing of the arrest 
of his niece, until the fact was communicated by me. lie was 
not even aware of my being retaken, until he saw me about to 
enter the prison again; though he probably anticipated that 
such might be my fate. As for Susquesus, he seldom manifested 
surprise or emotion of any sort, let what would occur. 

"Well, Mortaunt, my lat, I knowet you had vanishet, py 
hook or py crook, ant nopoty knowet how ; put I fought you 
woult fint it hart to t'row t'ese rascally squatters off your trail," 
cried Andries, giving me a hearty shake of the hand as I en- 
tered the prison. *'Here we are, all free of us, ag'in; ant it's 
lucky we're such goot frients, as our quarters are none of t'e 
largest or pest. The Injin fount I was alone, so he took pack 
his parole, and ist a close prisoner like f e rest of us, put in one 
sense a free man. You can tig up t'e hatchet ag'in f ese squat- 
ters whenever you please now ; is it not so, Sureflint?" 

*' Sartin — truce done — Susquesus prisoner like every body. 
Give T'ousandacres p'role" back ag'in — Injin free man, now." 

I understood the Onondago's meaning well enough, though 
his freedom was of a somewhat questionable character. He 
merely wished to say that, having given himself up to the 
squatters, he was released from the conditions of his parole, and 



THE CIIAINBEARER. -^OY 

was at liberty to make liis escape, or to wage war on liis captors 
ill any manner he saw fit. Luckily Jaap had escaped, for ] 
could see no signs of even his presence being known to Thou- 
sandacrcs or to his sons. It was something to have so practised 
a woodsman and so true a friend still at large, and near us ; and 
the information he could impart, should he fall in with Frank 
Malbonc, with the constable and the posse, might be of the ut 
most service to us. All these points Chainbearer and I discus- 
sed at lai'ge, the Indian sitting by, an attentive but a silent lis- 
tener. It was our joint opinion that Malbone could not now bo 
very far distant with succor. What would be the eflfect of an 
attack on the squatters it was not easy to predict, since the last 
might make battle ; and, small as was their force, it would be 
likely to prove very available in a struggle of that nature. The 
females of such a family were little less efficient than the males, 
when posted behind logs ; and there were a hundred things in 
which their habits, experience, and boldness might be made to 
tell, should matters be pushed to extremities. 

" Got knows — Got only knows, Mortaunt, what will come of 
it all," rejoined Chainbearer to one of my remarks, puffing 
coolly at his pipe at intervals, in order to secure the fire he had 
just applied to it. *' Nut'in is more unsai"tain fan war, as Sus, 
here, fery well knows py long exper'ence, ant as you ought to 
know yourself, my poy, hafin seen sarfice, ant warm sarfice, too. 
Shoult Frank Malbone make a charge on t'is settlement, as peiu 
an olt soltier, he will pe fery likely to do, we must make efery 
effi)rt to fall in oji one of his flanks, in orter to cover t'e atvancc 
or t'e retreat, as may happen to pe t'e movement at t'e time." 

'* I trust it will be the advance, as Malbone does not strike 
me as a- man likely to retreat very easily. But, are we certain 
'Squire Newcome will grant the warrant he will ask for, being 
in such close communion himself with these squatters ?" 

*'I haf fought of all fat, too, Mortaunt, ant fere is goot 
sense in it. I fink he will at least sent wort to T'ousantacrcs, 
to let him know what is comin', ant make as many telays as 
possiplc. T'e law is a lazy sarfant when it wishes to pe slow ; 



3b'8 THE CHAINBEARER. 

ant many is t'e rogue t'at hast outrun it, "svlien t'e race has 
pecn to safe a pack or a fine. Nefert'eless, Mortaunt, fe man 
who is right fights wit' great otts in his fafor, ant is fery apt to 
come out pest in t'e long run. It is a great advantage to pe 
always right; a trut' I've known ant felt from poyhoot, put 
which hast peen mate more ant more clear to me since t'e peace, 
ant I haf come pack to lif wit' Dus. T' at gal has teachet me much 
on all such matters ; ant it woult do your heart goot to see her 
alone wit' an olt ignorant man in t'e woots, of a Sunday, a tryin' 
to teach him his piple, and how he ought to lofe ant fear Got I" 

" Does Dus do this for you^ my old friend? — Does that ad- 
mirable creature really take on herself the solemn office of duty 
and love ! Much as I admired and esteemed her before, for 
her reverence and aff"ection for you, Chainbearer, I now admire 
and esteem her the more, for this proof of her most true and 
deep-seated interest in your welfare." 

''I'll tell you what, poy — Dus is petter ast twenty tominies 
to call a stupporn olt fellow, t'at has got a conscience toughenet 
ant hartenet by lifin' t'reescore years ant ten in t'e worlt, pack 
from his wicketness into t'e ways of gotliness and peace. You're 
young, Mortaunt, and haf not yet got out of t'e gristle of sin 
into t'e pone, ant can hartly know how strong istt'e holt t'at 
hapit and t' e worlt gets of an olt man ; put I hope you may lif 
long enough to see it all, ant to feel it all." I did not even 
smile, for the child-like earnestness, and the sincere simplicity 
with which Andries delivered himself of this wish, concealed its 
absurdity behind a veil of truth and feeling too respectable to 
admit of a single disrespectful impulse. *' Ant t'at is t'e worst 
wish I can wish you, my tear poy. You know how it hast 
peen wit' me, Mortaunt ; a chainpearer's callin' is none of t'e 
pest to teach religion ; which toes not seem to flourish in t'e 
woots; t'ough why I cannot tell ; since, as Dus has ag'in ant 
ag'in shown to me, Got is in t'e trees, ant on t'e mountains, 
ant along t'e valleys, ant is to pe hearet in t'e prooks ant t'e 
rifers, as much if not more fan he ist to pe hearet ant seen in 
t'e clearin's ant t'e towns. Put my life was not a religious life 



THE CHAINBEARER. 309 

afore t'c war, ant war is not a pusiness to make a man t'ink of 
deat' as lie ouglit ; t'ougli he hast it tay and night, as it might 
pe, afore his eyes." 

"And Dus, the excellent, frank, buoyant, sincere, womanly 
and charming Dus, adds these admirable qualities to othei 
merits, does she ! I knew she had a profound sentiment on the 
subject of religion, Chainbearer, though I did not know she 
took so very lively an interest in the welfare of those she loves, 
in connection with that all-important interest." 

" You may well call t'e gal py all t' em fine worts, Mortaunt, 
for she desarfs efery one of t'em, ant more too. No — no — Dus 
isn't known in a tay. A poty may lif in t'e same house wit' 
her, ant see her smilin' face, ant hear her merry song, mont's 
ant mont's, ant not I'arn all t'at t'ere ist of gotliness, ant meek- 
ness, ant virtue, ant love, and piety, in t'e pottom of her soul. 
One tay you'll t'ink well of Dus, Mortaunt Littlepage." 

" I ! — Tell me that I shall think well of Ursula Malbone, the 
girl that I almost worship ! Think ivell of her whom I now 
love with an intensity that I did not imagine was possible, three 
months since ! Think well of her who fills all my waking, and 
not a few of my sleeping thoughts — of whom I dream — to whom 
I am betrothed — who has heard my vows with favor, and has 
cheerfully promised, all parties that are interested consenting, 
to become at some early day my wife /" 

Old Andries heard my energetic exclamation with astonish- 
ment ; and even the Indian turned his head to look on me with 
a gratified attention. Perceiving that I had gone so far, under 
an impulse I had found irresistible, T felt the necessity of being 
still more explicit, and of communicating all I had to say on 
the subject. 

" Yes," I added, grasping old Andries by the hand — ** Yes, 
Chainbearer, I shall comply with your often-expressed wishes. 
Again and again have you recommended your lovely niece to 
mc as a wife, and I come now to take you at your word, and 
to say that nothing will make me so happy as to be able to call 
you uncle." 



370 THE C II A I N B E A R E R . 

To my surprise, Chainbearer expressed no delight at this 
announcement. I remarked that he had said nothing to me on 
his favorite old subject of my marrying his niece, since my 
arrival at the Nest ; and now, when I was not only so ready, 
but so anxious to meet his wishes, I could plainly see that he 
drew back from my proposals, and wished they had not been 
made. Amazed, I waited for him to speak with a disappoint- 
ment and uneasiness I cannot express. 

*' Mortaunt ! Mortaunt !" at length broke out of the old man^s 
very heart — " I wish to Heafen you hat nefer sait t'is ! I lofe 
you, poy, almost as much as I lofe Dus, herself ; put it griefs 
mo — it griefs me to hear you talk of marryin' t'e gal 1'* 

** You grieve, as much as you astonish me, Chainbearer, by 
making such a remark ! How often have you, yourself, ex- 
pressed to me the wish that I might become acquainted with 
your niece, and love her, and marry her ! Now, when I have 
seen her — when I have become acquainted with her — when I 
love her to my heart's core, and wish to make her my wife, 
you meet my proposals as if they were unworthy of you and 
yours!" 

'- Not so, lat — not so. Nut' in' would make me so happy as 
to see you t'e huspant of Dus, supposin' it coult come to pass, 
ant wrong pe tone to no one ; put it cannot pe so. I tid talk 
as you say, ant a foolish, selfish, conceitet olt man I wast for 
my jDains. I wast t'en in t'e army, ant we wast captains alike ; 
ant I wast t'e senior captain, and might orter you apout, ant 
tid orter you apout ; ant I wore an epaulette, like any ot'er 
captain, and hat my grandfat'er's swort at my site, ant fought 
we wast equals, ant t'at it wast an honor to many my niece ; 
put all t'is wast changet, lat, when I came into t'e woots ag'in, 
ant took up my chain, ant pegan to lif, ant to work, ant to feel 
poor, ant to see myself as I am. No — no — Mortaunt Little- 
page, t'e owner of Ravensnest, ant t'e heir of Mooseritge, ant of 
Satanstoe, ant of Lilacsbush, ant of all t'e fine houses, ant 
stores, ant farms t'at are in York ant up ant town t'e country, 
is not a suitaplc match for Dus Malbonc !" 



THE CHAINBEARER. 371 

*' This is so extraordinary a notion for you to take up, 
Oliainbearer, and so totally opposed to all I liave ever before 
heard from you on the subject, that I must be permitted to ask 
where you got it?" 

"From Dus Malbone, herself — yes, from her own mout', ant 
in her own pretty manner of speech." 

" Has, then, the probability of my ever offering to your niece 
been a subject of conversation between you ?" 

" T'at hast it — t'at hast it, ant time ant ag'in, too. Sit town 
on t'at log of woot, ant listen to what I haf to say, ant I will 
tell you t'c whole story. Susquesus, you neetn't go off into 
t'at corner, like a gentleman as you pe ; t'ough it is only an 
Injin gentleman ; for I haf no secrets from such a frient as 
yourself. Come pack, t'en, Injin, ant take your olt place, close 
at my site, v/here you haf so often peen when t'e inemy wast 
chargiu' us poltly in front." Sureflint quietly did as desired, 
while Chainbearer turned toward me and continued the dis- 
course. " You wilt see, Mortaunt, poy, t'ese here are t'e fery 
facts ant trut' of t'e case. When I came first from camp, ant I 
wast full of the prite, ant aut'ority, ant feelin's of a soltier, I 
pegan to talk to Dus apout you, as I hat peen accustomed to 
talk to you apout Dus. Ant I tolt her what a fine, bolt, hant- 
some, generous, well-principlet young fellow you wast" — the 
reader will overlook my repeating that to which the partiality 
of the Chainbearer so readily gave utterance — "ant I tolt her 
of your sarfice in t'e wars, ant of your wit, ant how you mate 
us all laugh, t'ough we might pe marchin' into pattle, ant what 
a fat'er you hat, ant what a grantfat'er, ant all t'at a goot ant a 
warm frient ought to say of anot'er, when it wast true, ant when 
it was tolt to a hantsome ant heart-whole )''oung woman t'at he 
wishet to fall in love wit' t'at fery same frient. Well, I tolt t'is 
to Dus, not once, Mortaunt ; nor twice ; put twenty times, you 
may depeiit on it." 

" Which makes me the more curious to hear what Dus could 
-JY did say in reply." 

"It's t'at reply, lat, t'at makes all t'e present tifficulty pe- 



S79. THE CHAINBEARER. 

tween us. For a long time Dus salt little or not'in'. Some- 
times she woult look saucy ant laugh — ant you know, lat, t'e 
gal can do bot' of t'em t'ings as well as most young women. 
Sometimes she woult pegin to sing a song, all about fait'iess 
young men, perhaps, ant proken-hearted virgins. Sometimes 
she woult look sorrowful, ant I coult fint tears startin' in her 
eyes ; ant t'en I pecome as soft and feeple-hearted as a gal, my- 
self, to see one who smiles so easily mate to shet tears." 

*'But how did all this end ? What can possibly have occur- 
red, to cause this great change in your own wishes V 

'' 'Tis not so much my wishes t'at be changet, Mortaunt, ast 
my opinion. If a poty coult haf t'ings just as he wishet, lat, 
Dus ant you shoult pe man and wife, so far as it tepentet on 
me, pefore t'e week ist out. Put, we are not our own masters, 
nor t'e masters of what ist to happen to our nephews and 
nieces, any more t'an we are masters of what ist to happen to 
ourselves. Put, I wilt tell you just how it happenet. One 
tay, as I wast talking to t'e gal in t'e olt way, she listenet to all 
1 hat to say more seriously t'an ast common, ant when she an- 
sweret, it wast much in t'is manner: — 'I t'ank you from t'e 
pottom of my heart, uncle Chainbearer,' she sait, ' not only for 
all t'at you haf tone for me, t'e orphan da'ghter of your sister, 
put for all you wish in my pehalf. I perceive t'at t'is itee of 
my marryin' your young frient, Mr. Mortaunt Littiepage, hast a 
strong holt on your feelin's, ant it ist time to talk seriously on 
t'at supject. When you associatet with t'at young gentleman, 
uncle Chainpearer, you wast Captain Coejemans, of t'e New 
York state line, ant his senior officer, ant it wast nat'ral to 
s'pose your niece fit to pecome his wife. Put it ist our tuty to 
look at what we now are, ant are likely to remain. Major Lit- 
tiepage hast a fat'er ant a mot'er, I haf he'rt you say, uncle 
Chainpearer, ant sisters, too ; now maniage ist a most serious 
t'ing. It ist to last for life, ant no one shoult form sich a con- 
nection wit' out reflectin' on all its pearin's. It ist hartly possi- 
ple t'at people in t'e prosperity ant happiness of t'ese Littlepages 
woult wish to see an onlv son, ant t'e heir of t'eir name ant 



THE CIIAINBEAREK. 373 

estates, takin' for a wife a gal out of t'e wools ; one t'at ist not 
only a cliainpearer's niece, put wlio liast pcen a chainpearer 
herself, ant who can pring into t'eir family no one t'ing to com- 
pensate 'em for t'e sacrifice." 

** And you had the heart to be quiet, Andries, and let Ursula 
say all this?" 

"Ah! lat, how coult I help it? You woult have tone it 
yourself, Mortaunt, coult you haf he'rt how prettily she turnet 
her periots, as I haf he'rt you call it, and how efery syllaple 
she sait come from t'e heart. T'en t'e face of t'e gal wast 
enough to convince me t'at she wast right ; she looket so 'ar- 
nest, ant sat, ant peautiful, Mortaunt ! No, no ; when an itee 
comes into t'e mint, wit' t'e ait of sich worts and looks, my 
poy, 'tis not an easy matter to get rit of it." 

" You do not seriously mean to say, Chainbearer, that you 
will refuse me Dus?" 

*' Dus will do t'at herself, lat ; for she ist still a chainpearer' s 
niece, ant you are still General Littlepage's son ant heir. Try 
her, and see what she wilt say." 

"But I have tried her, as you call it; have told her of my 
love ; have offered my hand, and — " 

" Ant what ?" 

" Why, she docs not answer me as you say she answered 

" Hast t'e gal sait she woult haf you, Mortaunt? Hast she 
said yes ?" 

" Conditionally she has. If my grandmother cheerfully con 
sent, and my parents do the same ; and my sister Kcttletas and 
her husband, and my laughing, merry Kate, then Dus will 
accept me." 

" T'is ist strange ! Ah ! I see how it is ; t'e gal has seen you, 
ant pecn much wit' you, ant talket wit' you, ant sung wit' you, 
ant laughet wit' you ; ant I s'pose, a'ter all, Vat will make a 
tifference in her judgment of you. I'm a pachelor, Mortaunt, 
ant haf no wife, nor any sweetheart, put it ist easy enough to 
comprehent how all t'ese matters must make a fery great tiffer- 



374 THE OIIAINBEARER. 

encc. I'm glat, howsefer, t'at t'e tiflference is not so great as to 
make t'e gal forget all your frients ; for if efery poty consents, 
ant is cheerful, why t'en my pein' a chainbearer, and Dus pein' 
so poor ant forsaken like, will not pe so likely to be rememperet 
hereafter, and bring you pitter t'oughts." 

" Andries Coejemans, I swear to you, I would rather become 
your nephew at this moment, than become the son-in-law of 
AVashington himself, had he a daughter." 

" T'at means you'd rat'er haf Dus, fan any ot'er gal of your 
acquaintance. T'at's nat'ral enough, and may make me look 
like his excellency, for a time, in your eyes ; put when you 
come to t'ink and feel more coolly, my tear poy, t'ere ist t'e 
tanger t'at you wilt see some tifference petween t'e captain-gen- 
eral and commanter-in-chief of all t'e American armies, and a 
poor chainpearer, who in his pest tays was nut' in' more fan a 
captain in t'e New York line. I know you lofe me, Mortaunt; 
put fere ist tanger t'at it might not pe exactly an uncle and 
nephew's love in t'e long run. I am only a poor Tutchman, when 
all is sait, wit' out much etication, ant wit' no money, ant not 
much more manners ; while you've peen to college, and pe col- 
lege I'arn't, antpe as gay ant gallant a spark as can pe fount in 
t'e states, as we call t'e olt colonies now. Wast you a Yankee, 
Mortaunt, I'd see you marriet, and unmarriet twenty times, pe- 
fore I'd own as much as f is ; put a man may pe sensible of his 
ignorance, ant pat etication, and weaknesses, wit'out wishin' to 
pe tolt of it to his face, and laughed at apout it, py efery A B 
C scholar fat comes out of New Englant. No, no — I'm a poor 
Tutchman, I know ; ant a poty may say as much to a frient, 
when he woult tie pefore he woult own fere wast any f ing poor 
apout it to an inimy." 

"I would gladly pursue this discourse, Andries, and bring 
it to a happy termination," I answered; " but here come the 
squatters in a body, and I suppose some movement or proposal 
is in the wind. We will defer our matter, then ; you remem- 
bering that I agree to none of your opinions or decisions. Dus 
IS to be mine, if indeed we can protect her against the grasp of 



THE CHAIN BEARER. 8T5 

these wretches. I have something to say on that subject, too • 
but this is not the moment to utter it." 

Chainbearer seized my hand, and gave it a friendly pressure, 
whicli terminated the discourse. On the subject of the inten- 
tions of Thousandacres toward Dus, I was now not altogether 
free from uneasiness ; though the tumult of rapturous feeling 
through which I had just passed, drove it temporarily from my 
mind. I had no apprehensions that Ursula Malbone would ever 
be induced, by ordinary means, to become the wife of Zepha- 
niah ; but I trembled as to what might be the influence of men- 
aces against her uncle and myself. Nor was I altogether easy 
on the score of the carrying out of those menaces. It often 
happens with crime, as in the commission of ordinary sins, that 
men are impelled by circumstances, which drive them to deeds 
from which they would have recoiled in horror, had the con- 
summation been directly presented to their minds, without the in- 
tervention of any mediate causes. But the crisis was evidently 
approaching, and I waited with as much calmness as I could 
assume for its development. As for Chainbearer, being still 
ignorant of the conversation I had overheard in the mill, he had 
no apprehensions of evil from the source of my greatest dread. 

The day had advanced, all this time, and the sun had set, 
and night was close upon us, as Tobit and his brethren came to 
the door of our prison, and called upon Chainbearer and myself 
to come forth, leaving Susquesus behind. We obeyed with alac- 
rity ; for there was a species of liberty in being outside of those 
logs, with my limbs unfettered, though a vigilant watch was 
kept over us both. On each side of me w^alked an arined man, 
and Chainbearer was honored with a similar guard. For all 
this, old Andries cared but little. He knew and I knew that 
the time could not be very distant when we might expect to 
hear from Frank Malbone; and every minute that went by 
added to our confidence in this respect. 

We were about half-way between the storehouse and the 
dwelling of Thousandacres, toward which our steps Avcre directed, 
when Andries suddenly stopped, and asked leave to say a word 



376 THE C IIAI N B BARER. 

to me in private. Tobit was at a loss liow to take tliis request ; 
but, there being an evident desire to keep on reasonably good 
terms with Chainbearer, after a short pause he consented to 
form an extended ring with his brothers, leaving me and my 
old friend in its centre. 

"I'll tell you what I t'ink atvisaple in t'is matter," com- 
menced Andries, in a sort of whisper. "It cannot pe long 
afore Malpone will be pack wit' t'e posse ant constaples, ant so 
fort' ; now, if we tell t'ese rapscallions t'at we want taylight to 
meet our inimies in, ant t'at we haf no stomach for nightwork, 
perhaps t'ey'll carry us pack to gaol, ant so gif more time to 
Frank to get here." 

"It will be much better, Chainbearer, to prolong our inter- 
view with these squatters, so that you and I may be at large, or 
at least not shut up in the storehouse, when Malbone makes 
his appearance. In the confusion we may even escape and 
join our friends, which will be a thousand times better than to 
be found within four walls." 

Andries nodded his head, in sign of acquiescence, and thence- 
forth he seemed to aim at drawing things out, in order to gain 
time, instead of bringing them to a speedy conclusion. As 
soon as our discourse was ended, the young men closed round 
us again, and we moved on in a body. 

Darkness being so close upon us, Thousandacres had deter- 
mined to hold his court, this time, Avithin the house, having a 
care to a sufficient watchfulness about the door. There is little 
variation in the internal distribution of the room of what may 
be called an American cottage. About two-thirds of the space 
is given to the principal apartment, which contains the fire- 
place,* and is used for all the purposes of kitchen and sitting- 
room, while the rest of the building is partitioned into three 
several subdivisions. One of these subdivisions is commonly a 
small bedroom; another is the buttery, and the third holds the 
stairs, or ladders, by which to ascend to the loft, or to descend 

• At the jiresent (Lay, the cooking-stove has nearly superseded the open fircolace. 



THE CIIAINBEARER. 377 

to the cellar. Such was the arrangement of the dwelling of 
Thousandacres, and such is the arrangement in thousands of 
other similar buildings throughout the land. The thriving hus- 
bandman IS seldom long contented, however, with such narrow 
and humble accommodations ; but the framed house, of two 
stories in height, and with five windows in front, usually soon 
succeeds this cottage, in his case. It is rare, indeed, that any 
American private edifice has more than five windows in front, 
the few exceptions which do exist to the rule being residences 
of mark, and the supernumerary windows are generally to be 
found in wings. Some of our old, solid, substantial, stone 
country houses occasionally stretch themselves out to eight or 
nine apertures of this sort, but they are rare. I cannot gossip 
here, however, about country houses and windows, when I 
liave matters so grave before me to relate. 

In the forest, and especially in the newer portions of New 
York, the evenings are apt to be cool, even in the warm months. 
That memorable night, I well remember, had a sharpness about 
it that threatened even a frost, and Prudence had lighted a fire 
on the yawning hearth of her rude chimney. By the cheerful 
blaze of that fire, which was renewed from time to time by 
dried brush, the American frontier substitute for the fagot, 
were the scenes I am about to mention enacted. 

We found all the males, and several of the females, assembled 
in the large apartment of the building I have described, when 
Chainbearer and myself entered. The wife of Tobit, with one 
or two of the sisterhood, however, were absent; doubtless in 
attendance on Dus. Lowiny, I remarked, stood quite near the 
fire, and the countenance of the girl seemed to me to be sad- 
dened and thoughtful. I trust I shall not be accused of being 
a coxcomb if I add, that the idea crossed my mind, that the 
appearance and manners of a youth so much superior to those 
with whom she was accustomed to associate, had made a slight 
impression on this girl's — I will not say heart, for imagination 
would be the better word — and had awakened sympathies that 
manifested themselves in her previous conduct ; while the shade 



378 THE C II A I N C E A R E 11 . 

tbat was now cast across lier brow came quite as mucli from 
the scene she had witnessed between myself and Dus, near the 
rock, as from seeing me again a prisoner. The friendship of 
this girl might still be of importance to me, and still more so to 
Ursula, and I will acknowledge that the apprehension of losing 
it was far from pleasant. I could only wait for the develop- 
ments of time, however, in order to reach any certainty on this, 
as well as on other most interesting topics. 

Thousandacres had the civility to order us chairs, and wc 
took our seats accordingly. On looking round that grave and 
attentive circle, I could trace no new signs of hostility ; but, on 
the contrary, the countenances of all seemed more pacific than 
they were when we parted. I considered this as an omen that 
I and my friend should receive some propositions that tended 
toward peace. In this I was not mistaken ; the first words that 
were uttered having that character. 

'* It's time this matter atween us, Chainbearer," commenced 
Thousandacres himself, "should be brought to suthin' like an 
eend. It keeps the b'ys from their lumberin', and upsets my 
whull family. I call myself a reasonable man ; and be as ready 
to settle a difficulty on as accommodatin' tarms as any parson 
you'll find by lookin' up and down the land. Many is the diffi- 
culty that I've settled in my day ; and I'm not too old to settle 
'em now. Sometimes I've fit out, when I've fell in with an 
obstinate fellow ; sometimes I've left it out to men ; and some- 
times I've settled matters myself. No man can say he ever 
know'd me refuse to hearken to reason, or know'd me to gi'n 
up a just cause, so long as there was a morsel of a chance to 
defend it. When overpowered by numbers, and look'd down 
by your accursed law, as you call it, I'll own that, once or 
twice in my time, when young and inexper'enc'd, I did get the 
worst of it ; and so was obliged to sort o' run away. But use 
makes parfect. I've seen so much, by seventy odd, as to have 
I'arnt to take time by the forelock, and don't practyse delays in 
business. I look upon you, Chainbearer, as a man much like 
myself, reasonable, exper'nc'd, and willin' to accommodate. I 



THE CIIAINBEARER. 379 

sec no great difficulty, tlierefore, in settlin' this matter on tlio 
spot, so as to have no more hard feelin's or hot words atween 
us. Sich be my notions ; and I should like to hear your'n." 

*' Since you speak to me, T'ousantacres, in so polite and 
civil a manner, I'm reaty to hear you ant to answer in t'e same 
temper," returned old Andries, his countenance losing much of 
the determined and angry expression with which he had taken 
his seat in the circle. *' T'ere ist nuttin' t'at more pecomes a 
man, fan moteration ; ant an olt man in partic'lar. I do not 
t'ink, however, t'at t'ere ist much resemplance petween you ant 
me, T'ousantacres, in any one t'ing, except it pe in olt age. 
We're pot' of us pretty well atvancet, ant haf reachet a time of 
life when it pehooves a man to examine ant reflect on t'e great 
trut's t'at are to pe fount in his piple. T'e piple ist a pook, 
Aaron, t'at ist not enough re't in t'e woots ; t'ough Almighty 
Got hast all t'e same rights to t'e sacrifices ant worship of his 
creatures in t'e forest, as to t'e worship and sarfices of his crea- 
tures in t'e settlements. I'm not a tellin' you t'is, T'ousant- 
acres, py way of showin' off my own I'arnin'; for all I know on 
the supject, myself, I haf got from Dus, my niece, who ist as 
goot, ant as willin', ant as hanty in explainin' sich matters, as 
any tominie I ever talket wit'. I wish you woult listen to her, 
yourself ; you and Prutence ; when I t'ink you woult allow t'at 
her tiscourse ist fery etifyin' ant improfin'. Now you seem in 
t'e right temper, ist a goot time to pe penefitet in t'at way; for 
t'ey tell me my niece ist here, ant at hant." 

" She is ; and I rej'ice that you have brought her name into 
the discourse so 'arly ; as it was my design to mention it my- 
self. I see we think alike about the young woman, Chainbear- 
er, and trust and believe she'll be the means of reconcilin<r all 
parties, and of making us good fri'nds. I've sent for the gal ; 
and she'll soon be coming along, with Tobit's wife, who sets by 
her wonderfully already." 

" Well, talkin' of wonterful t'ings, wonters wilt never cease, 
I do pelieve !" Chainbearer exclaimed, for he really believed 
that the family of the squatter was taken suddenly with a "re- 



380 THE CUAINBEARER. 

ligious turn," and that sometliing like a conversion was about 
to occur. "Yes, yes; it ist so; we meet wit' wonters when 
we least expect 'em ; and t'at it is t'at makes wonters so won- 
terful !" 



THE CnAINBEAEER. 381 



CHAPTER XXV. 

** Yes, Hastings, these are they 

Who challenge to themselves thy country's lovo ; 
The true, the constant, who alone can weigh, 
What glory should demand, or liberty approve 1" 

Akenside. 

A PAUSE succeeded this little opening, during wliicli the 
assembly was waiting for the arrival of Ursula Malbone, and 
that semi-savage guardian that " set" so much by her, as not 
to leave her out of sight for a moment. All that time Thou- 
sandacres was ruminating on his own plans ; while old Andries 
was probably reflecting on the singular circumstances that 
*' wonters shoult pe so wonterful!" At length a little bustle 
and movement occurred near the door, the crowd collected in 
it opened, and Dus walked into the centre of the room, her 
color heightened by excitement, but her step firm, and her air 
full of spirit. At first, the blazing light aff'ected her sight, and 
she passed a hand over her eyes. Then looking around I met 
her gaze, and was rewarded for all my anxiety by one of those 
glances, into which affection knows how to infuse so much 
that is meaning and eloquent. I was thus favored for a mo- 
ment only ; those eyes still turning until they met the fond an- 
swering look of Chainbearer. The old man had arisen, and he 
now received his niece in his arms as a parent would embrace a 
beloved child. 

That outpouring of feeling lasted but a little while. It had 
been unpremeditated and impulsive, and was almost as sudden- 
ly suppressed. It gave me, however, the happiness of witnes? 
mg one of the most pleasant sights that man can behold ; that 
of youth, and beauty, and delicacy, and female tenderness, 
pouring out their feelings on the bosom of age — on the ruder 



3S2 THE CHAIN BEARER. 

qjalities of one, hardened in person by tlie exposures of a life 
passed in the forest. To me the contrast between the fair, 
golden hair of Dus, and the few straggling, bleached locks of 
her uncle ; the downy, peach-like cheek of the girl, and the 
red, wrinkled, and sun-dried countenance of Chainbearer, was 
perfectly delightful. It said how deep must lie those sympa- 
thies of our nature, which could bring together so closely two 
so differently constituted in all things, and set at defiance the 
apparent tendencies of taste and habit. 

Dus suffered herself to be thus carried away by her feeb 
ings for only a moment. Accustomed in a degree, as she 
certainly was, to the rough associations of the woods, this was 
the first time she had ever been confronted with such an assem- 
bly, and I could see that she drew back into herself with wom- 
anly reserve, as she now gazed around her, and saw in what a 
wild and unwonted presence she stood. Still, I had never seen 
her look so supremely lovely as she did that evening, for she 
threw Pris. Bayard and Kate, with all their advantages of dress 
and freedom from exposure, far into the shade. Perhaps the 
life of Ursula Malbone had given to her beauty the very com- 
pleteness and fullness, that are most apt to be wanting to the 
young American girl, who has been educated in the over-tender 
and delicate manner of our ordinary parental indulgence. - Of 
air and exercise she had already enjoyed enough, and they had 
imparted to her bloom and person, the richness and develop- 
ment that are oftener found in the subordinate than in the 
superior classes of the country. 

As for Thousandacres, though he watched every movement 
of Ursula Malbone with jealous interest, he said nothing to 
interrupt the current of her feelings. As soon as she left her 
uncle's arms, however, Dus drew back and took the rude seat 
that I had placed for her close to Chainbearer's side. I was 
paid for this little act of attention, by a sweet smile from its 
subject, and a lowering look from the old squatter, that admon 
ished me of the necessity of being cautious of manifesting too 
much of the interest I felt in the beloved object before mc. As is 



T HE C II A I N B E A R E R . 383 

usual in assemblages composed of the rude and unpractised, a 
long, awkward pause succeeded this introduction of Dus to our 
presence. After a time, however, Aaron resumed the subject 
in hand. 

"We've met to settle all our difficulties, as I was sayin'," 
observed Thousandacres, in a manner as deliberative and con- 
siderate as if he were enfrasred in one of the most blameless 
pursuits of life, the outward appearances of virtue and vice 
possessing a surprising resemblance to each other. **When 
men get together on sich a purpose, and in a right spirit, it 
must be that there's a fault somewhere, if what's right can't be 
come at atween 'em. What's right atwixt man and man is my 
creed, Chainbearer." 

'' What's right petween man ant man is a goot creet, T'ousant- 
acres ; ant it's a goot religion, too," answered Andries, coldly. 

** That it is ! — that it is ! and I now see that you're in a rea- 
sonable temper, Chainbearer, and that there's a prospect of 
business in you. I despise a man that's so set in his notions 
that there's no gettin' him to give in an inch in a transaction — • 
don't you hold to that too, Captain Andries?" 

" T'at tepents on what t'e notions pe. Some notions do no- 
poty any goot, ant t'e sooner we're rit of 'em t'e petter; while 
some notions pe so fery excellent t'at a man hat pest lay town 
his life as lay t'em town." 

This answer puzzled Thousandacres, who had no idea of a 
man's ever dying for opinion's sake ; and who was probably 
anxious, just at that moment, to find his companion sufficiently 
indifferent to principle, to make some sacrifices to expediency. 
It was quite evident this man was disposed to practise a ru^e 
on this occasion, that is often resorted to by individuals, and 
sometimes by states, when disposed to gain a great advantage 
out of a very small right ; that of demanding much more than 
they expect to receive, and of making a great merit of yielding 
points that they never had the smallest claim to maintain. But 
this disposition of the squatter's will make itself sufficiently 
apparent as we proceed. 



884 THE CHAINBEARER. 

** I don't see any use in talkin' about layin' down lives,'* 
Tliousandacres returned to Chainbearer's remark, " seein* this 
is not a life and death transaction at all. The most that can bo 
made of squattin', give the law its full swing, is trespass and 
damages, and them an't matters to frighten a man that has stood 
out ag'in 'em all his days. We're pretty much sich crittur's 
as sarcumstances make us. There be men, I don't question, 
that a body can skear half out of their wits with a writ, while 
a whull flock of sheep, skins and wool united, wunt intimidate 
them that's used to sich things. I go on the principle of doin' 
wliat's right, let the law say what it will of the matter ; and 
this is the principle on which I wish to settle our present diffi- 
culty." 

"Name your tarms — name your tarms !" cried Chainbearer, 
a little impatiently; *' talkin', ist talkin', all t'e worlt ofer, ant 
actin' is actin.' If you haf any t'ing to propose, here we are, 
reaty ant willin' to hear it." 

'* That's hearty, and just my way of thinkin' and feelin', and 
I'll act up to it, though it was the gospel of St. Paul himself, 
and I was set on folio win' it. Here, then, is the case, and any 
man can understand it. There's two rights to all the land on 
'arth, and the whull world over. One of these rights is what I 
call a king's right, or that which depends on writin's, and laws, 
and sichlike contrivances ; and the other depends on possession. 
It stands to reason, that fact is better than any writin' about it 
can be ; but I'm willin' to put 'em on a footin' for the time 
bein', and for the sake of accommodatin.' I go all for accom- 
modatin' matters, and not for stirrin' up ill blood ; and that I 
tell Chainbearer, b'ys, is the right spirit to presarve harmony 
and fri'ndship !" 

This appeal was rewarded by a murmur of general approba- 
{i:>n m all that part of the audience which might be supposed 
to be in the squatter interest, while the part that might be 
called adverse, remained silent, though strictly attentive, old 
A-udries included. 

*' Yes, that's my principles" — resumed Tliousandacres, tak- 



THE CHAIN BEARER. 385 

ing a lieai-ty draught of cider, a liquor of which he had provided 
an ample allowance, passing the mug civilly to Chainhearer, as 
soon as he had his swallow — " Yes, that's my principles, and 
good principles they be, for them that likes peace and harmony, 
as all must allow. Now, in this matter afore us, General Lit- 
tlepage and his partner ripresents writin's, and I and mine 
ripresent fact. I don't say which is the best, for I don't want 
to be hard on any man's rights, and 'specially when the accom- 
modating spirit is up and doin' ; but I'm fact, and the gin'ral's 
pretty much writin's. But difficulties has sprung up atwixt us, 
and it's high time to put 'em down. I look upon you. Chain- 
bearer, as the fri'nd of the t'other owners of this sile, and I'm 
now ready to make proposals, or to hear them, just as it may 
prove convenient." 

" I haf no proposals to make, nor any aut'ority to offer t'em. 
I'm nut' in here, put a chainpearer, wit' a contract to survey 
t'e patent into small lots, ant t'en my tuty ist tone. Put, here 
ist General Littlepage's only son, ant he ist empoweret, I unter- 
stant, to do all t'at ist necessary on t'is tract, as t'e attorney — " 

"He is and he isn't an attorney!" interrupted Thousand- 
acres, a little fiercely for one in whom "the accommodatin' 
spirit was up." "At one moment he says he's an attorney, 
and at the next he isn't. I can't stand this onsartainty any 
very great while." 

"Pooh, pooh! T'ousantacres," returned Chainbcarer, coolly, 
" you're frightenct at your own shatow ; ant t'at comes, let me 
telt you, from not lifing in ' peace ant harmony,' as you call it, 
yourself, wit' t'e law. A man hast a conscience, whet'er he pe 
a skinner or a cow-boy, or efen a squatter; ant he hast it, 
pecause Got hast gifen it to him, ant not on account of any 
sarfices of his own. T'at conscience it is, t'at makes my young 
frient Mortaunt here an attorney in your eyes, when he ist no 
more of a lawyer fan you pe yourself." 

"Why has he called himself an attorney, then, and why do 
you call him one. An attorney is an attorney, in my eyes, and 
little difference is there atween 'em. Rattlesnakes would fare 
17 



3SG THE CIIAINBEARER. 

better in a clearin' of Thousandacres', than the smartest attor- 
ney in the land !" 

"Well, well, haf your own feelin's; for I s'pose Satan has 
put 'em into you, anttalkin' won't pring t'em out. Tis young 
gentleman, however, ist no attorney of t'e sort you mean, olt 
squatter, put he hast peen a soitier, like myself, ant in my own 
regiment, which wast his fat'er's, ant a prave young man he ist 
ant wast, ant one t'at has fou't gallantly for liperty — " 

" If he's a fri'nd of liberty, he should be a fri'nd of liberty's 
people ; should give liberty and take liberty. Now, I call it 
liberty to let every man have as much land as he has need on, 
and no more, keepin' the rest for them that's in the same sitia- 
tion. If he and his father be true fri'nds of liberty, let 'em 
prove it like men, by giving up all claims to any more land than 
they want. That's what I call liberty ! Let every man have 
as much land as he's need on ; that's my religion, and it's 
liberty, too."* 

" Wliy are you so motcrate, T'ousantacres ? why are you so 
unreasonaply moterate ? Why not say t'at efery man hast a 
right to efery t'ing he hast need of, ant so make him comfort- 
aple at once ! T'ere is no wistom in toin' t'ings by hafs, ant 
it ist always petter to surfey all t'e lant you want, while t'e 
compass is set ant t'e chains pe goin'. It's just as much lip- 



* I am a little apprehensive that the profound political philosophers who have sprung 
up among us within a few years, including some in high places, and who virtually 
maintain that the American is so ineffably free, that it is opposed to the spirit of the 
institutions of the country to suffer him to be either landlord or tenant, however 
much he may desire it himself (and no one pretends that either law or facts compel 
him to be either, contrary to his own wishes), will feel mortified at discovering that 
they have not the merit of first proposing their own exquisite theory ; Aaron Thou 
sandacres having certainly preceded them by sixty years. There is no great secret 
on the subject of the principle which lies at the bottom of this favorite doctrine, the 
Deity himself having delivered to man, as far back as the days of Moses, the tenth 
commandment, with the obvious design of controlling it. An attempt to prove that 
the institutions of this country are unsuited to the relations of landlord and tenant, ia 
an attempt to prove that they are unsuited to meet the various contingencies of 
human affairs, and is an abandonment of their defence, as that defence can only bo 
made on broad, manly, and justifiable grounds. As a political principle, it is just as 
true that the relations of debtor and creditor are unsuited to the institutions, and ought 
to be abolished. — Editor. 



THE CIIAINBEARER. 38*7 

crty to baf a riglit to share in a man's tollars, as to share in 
his lants." 

" I don't go as far as that, Chainbearer," put in Thousand- 
acres, with a degree of moderation that ought to put the ene- 
mies of his principles to the blush. " Money is what a man 
'arns himself, and he has a right to it, and so I say let him keep 
it ; but land is necessary, and every man has a right to as much 
as he has need on— I wouldn't give him an acre more, on no 
account at all." 

"Put money wilt puy lant; ant, in sharin' t'e tollars, you 
share t'e means of puyin' as much lant as a man hast neet of ; 
t'en t'ere ist a great teal more lant ast money in t'is country, 
ant, in gifin' a man lant, you only gif him t'at which ist so 
cheap ant common, t'at he must pe a poor tefil if he can't get 
all t'e lant he wants wit' out much trouple and any squattin', if 
you wilt only gif him ever so little money. No, no, T'ousant- 
acres — you're fery wrong ; you shoult pegin to tivite wit' t'e 
tollars, ant t'at wilt not tisturp society, as tollars are in t'e 
pocket, ant go ant come efery day ; whereast lant is a fixture, 
ant some people lofe t'eir own hills, ant rocks, ant trees — when 
t'ey haf peen long in a family most especially." 

There was a dark scowl gathering on the brow of Thousand- 
acres, partly because he felt himself puzzled by the upright and 
straightforward common sense of Chainbearer, and partly for a 
reason that he himself made manifest in the answer that he quite 
promptly gave to my old friend's remarks. 

'* No man need say any thing ag'in squattin' that wants 
to keep fri'nds with me," Thousandacres put in, with certain 
twitchings about the muscles of the mouth, that were so many 
signs of his being in earnest. *'I hold to liberty and a man's 
rights, and that is no reason I should be deflected on. My no- 
tions be other men's notions, I know, though they be called 
squatters' notions. Congressmen have held 'em, and will hold 
'em ag'in, if they expect much support, in some parts of the 
country, at election time. I dare say the day will come, 
when governors will be found to hold 'cm. Governors be 



388 THE CIIAINBEARER. 

but men a'ter all, and must hold doctrines that satisfy men's 
wants, or they won't be governors long.* But all this is 
nuthin' but talk, and I want to come to suthin' like business, 
Chainbearer. Here's this clearin', and here's the lumber. 
Now, I'm willin' to settle on some sich tarms as these: I'll 
keep the lumber, carry in' it oflf as soon as the water gets to be 
high enough, agreein' to pay for the privilege by not fellin' an- 
other tree, though I must have the right to saw up sich logs as 
be cut and hauled already ; and then, as to the land and clear- 
in', if the writin' owners want 'em, they can have 'em by pay- 
in' for the betterments, leavin' the price out to men in this 
neighborhood, sin' city-bred folks can't know nothin' of the toil 
and labor of choppin', and loggin', and ashin', and gettin' in, 
and croppin' new lands." 

** Mortaunt, t'at proposal ist for you. I haf nut'in' to do 
wit' t'e clearin' put to surfey it ; and t'at much will I perform, 
Avhen I get as far ast t'e place, come fere goot, or come t'ere 
efilofit." 

*' Survey this clearin' !" put in Tobit, with his raven throat, 
and certainly in a somewhat menacing tone. *'No, no. Chain- 
bearer — the man is not out in the woods, that could ever get 
his chain across this clearin'." 

"T'at man, I tell you, is Andries Coejemans, commonly 
called Chainpearer," answered my old friend, calmly. *'No 
clearin', ant no squatter, ever stoppet him yet, nor do I t'ink he 
will pe stoppet here, from performin' his tuty. Put praggin' is 
a pat quality, ant we'll leaf time to show t'e trut'." 

Thousandacres gave a loud hem, and looked very dark, 
though he said nothing until time had been given to his blood 
to resume its customary current. Then he pursued the dis- 
course as follows — evidently bent on keeping on good terms 
with Chainbearer as long as possible. 

"On the whull," he said, "I rather think, Tobit, 'twill be 
best if you leave this matter altogether to me. Years cool the 

* Thousandacres speaks here like a veritable prophet. — Editor. 



THE CIIAINBEARER. 389 

blood, and allow time to reason to spread. Years be as neces- 
sary to judgment as a top to a fruit-tree. I kind o' b'lieve that 
Chainbearer and I, being botli elderly and considerate men, -will 
be apt to get along best together. I dare say, Chainbearer, 
that if the surveyin' of this clearin' be put to you on the footin 
of defiance, that your back would get up, like any body else's, 
and you'd bring on the chain, let who might stand in your way. 
But, that's neither here nor there. You're welcome to chain 
out just as much of this part of the patent as you see fit, and 
'twill help us along so much the better when we come to 
the trade. Eeason's reason ; and I'm of an accommodatin' 
spirit." 

"So much t'e petter, T'ousantacres ; yes, so much t'e pet- 
ter," answered old Andries, somewhat mollified by the concil- 
iatory temper in which the squatter now delivered himself. 
"When work ist to pe performet, it must -pQ performet; ant, 
as I'm hiret to suifey and chain t'e whole estate, t'e whole es- 
tate 7)iust pe chainet ant surfeyet. Well, what else haf you to 
say?" 

*' I am not answered as to my first offbr. I'll take the lumber, 
agreein' not to cut another tree, and the valie of the betterments 
can be left out to men." 

"I am the proper person to answer this proposal," I thought 
it now right to say, lest Andries and Thousandacres should get 
to loggerheads again on some minor and immaterial point, and 
thus endanger every hope of keeping the peace until Malbone 
could arrive. " At the same time, I consider it no more than 
right to tell you, at once, that I have no power that goes so far 
as to authorize me to agi*ee to your terms. Both Colonel 
Follock and my father have a stem sense of justice, and neither, 
in my opinion, will feel much of a disposition to yield to any 
conditions that, in the least, may have the appearance of com- 
promising any of their rights as landlords. I have heard them 
both say that, in these particulars, ' yielding an inch would be 
giving an ell,' and I confess that, from all I have seen lately of 
settlers and settlements, I'm very much of the same way of 



390 THE CIIAINBEARER. 

tliinking. My principals may concede somctliing, but they'll 
never treat on a subject of which all the right is on their own 
side." 

"Am I to understand you, young man, that you're onaccom- 
modatin', and that my oifers isn't to be listened to, in the 
spirit in which they're made?" demanded Thousandacros, some- 
what dryly. 

*' You are to understand me as meaning exactly what I say, 
sir. In the first place, I have no authority to accept your offers, 
and shall not assume any, let the consequences to myself be 
what they may. Indeed, any promises made in duresse are good 
for nothing." 

" Anan!" cried the squatter. "This is Mooseridgc Patent, 
and Washington, late Charlotte county — and this is the place 
we are to sign and seal in, if writin's pass atween us." 

"By promises made in duresse, I mean promises made while 
the party making them is in confinement, or not absolutely free 
to make them or not ; such promises are good for nothing in 
law, even though all the ' writings' that could be drawn passed 
between the parties." 

"This is strange doctrine, and says but little for your 
boasted law, then ! At one time, it asks for writin's, and noth- 
in' but writings will answer ; and, then, all the writin's on 'arth 
be of no account ! Yet some folks complain, and have hard 
feelin's, if a man wunt live altogether up to law !" 

"I rather think, Thousandacres, you overlook the objects of 
the law, in its naked regulations. Law is to enforce the right, 
and were it to follow naked rules, without regard to principles, 
it might become the instrument of eflfecting the very mischiefs 
it is designed to counteract." 

I might have spared myself the trouble of uttering this fine 
speech ; which caused the old squatter to stare at me in wonder, 
'ind produced a smile among the young men, and a titter among 
the females. I observed, however, that the anxious face of 
Lowiny expressed admiration, rather than the feeling that was 
so prevalent among the sisterhood. 



THE CIIAINBEARER. 391 

" There's no use in talkin' to this young spark, Chainbearer," 
Thousandacres said, a little impatiently in the way of manner, 
too ; "he's passed his days in the open country, and has got 
open-country ways, and notions, and talk ; and them's things I 
don't pretend to understand. You're woods, mainly ; he's open 
country ; and I'm clearin'. There's a difference atween each ; 
but v/oods and clearin' come clussest ; and so I'll say my say to 
you. Be you, now, r'ally disposed to accommodate, or not, old 
Andries ?" 

" Any t'ing t'at ist right, ant just, ant reasonaple, T'ousant- 
acres ; ant nut' in' t'at ist not." 

"That's just my w^ay of thinkin' ! If the law, now, would 
do as much as that for a man, the attorneys would soon starve. 
Wa-a-1, we'll try now to come to tarms, as soon as possible. 
You're a single man, I know, Chainbearer; but I've always 
supposed 'twas on account of no dislike to the married state ; 
but because you didn't chance to light on the right gal ; or 
maybe on account of the surveyin' principle, which keeps a 
man pretty much movin' about from tract to tract ; though not 
much more than squattin' doos, neither, if the matter was in- 
quired into." 

I understood the object of this sudden change from fee-sim- 
ples, and possessions, and the " accommodatin' spirit," to mat- 
rimony ; but Chainbearer did not. He only looked his sur- 
prise ; while, as to myself, if I looked at all as I felt, I must 
have been the picture of uneasiness. The beloved, unconscious 
Dus sat there in her maiden beauty, interested and anxious in 
her mind, beyond all question, but totally ignorant of the terri- 
ble blow that was meditated against herself. As Andries looked 
his desire to hear more, instead of answering the strange re- 
mark he had just heard, Thousandacres proceeded — 

"It's quite nat'ral to think of matrimony, afore so many 
young folks, isn't it, Chainbearer ?" added the squatter, chuck- 
ling at his own conceits. " Here's lots of b'ys and gals about 
me ; and I'm just as accommodatin' in findin' husbands or 
wives for my fri'nds and neighbors, as I am in scttlin all other 



392 THE CH AINBE ARE R. 

difficulties. Any thing for peace and a good neigliborliood is 
my religion !" 

Old Andries passed a hand over his eyes, in the way one is 
apt to do when he wishes to aid a mental effort by external 
application. It was evident he was puzzled to find out what 
the squatter would be at, though he soon put a question that 
brought about something like an explanation. 

"I ton't unterstant you, T'ousantacres ; — no, I ton't unter- 
stant you. Is it your tesire to gif me one of your puxom ant 
fine-lookin' gals, here, for a wife ?" 

The squatter laughed heartily at this notion, the young men 
joming in the mirth ; while the constant titter that the females 
had kept up ever since the subject of matrimony was intro- 
duced, was greatly augmented in zest. An indifferent specta- 
tor Avould have supposed that the utmost good feeling prevailed 
among us. 

"With all my heart, Chainbearer, if you can persuade any 
of the gals to have you !" cried Thousandacres, with the most 
apparent acquiescence. " With such a son-in-law, I don't 
know but I should take to the chain, a'ter all, and measure out 
my clearin's as well as the grandee farmers, avIio take pride in 
knowin' where their lines be. There's Lowiny, she's got no 
spark, and might suit you well enough, if she'd only think 
so." 

"Lowiny don't think any sich thing; and isn't likely to 
think any sich thing," answered the girl, in a quick, irritated 
manner. 

" Wa-a-1, I do s'pose, a'ter all, Chainbearer," Thousandacres 
resumed, " we'll get no weddin' out of you. Threescore-and- 
ten is somewhat late for takin' a first wife ; though I've known 
widowers marry ag'in when hard on upon ninety. When a man 
has taken one wife in 'arly life, he has a kind o' right to another 
in old age." 

" Yes — yes — or a hundred either," put in Prudence, with 
spirit. "Give 'em a chance only, and they'll find wives as 
long as they can find breath to ask women to have 'em ! Gals, 



THE C1IAINBEARE{1. 393 

you may make up your minds to that — no man will mourn long 
for any on you, a'ter you're once dead and buried." 

I should tliink tins little sally must have been somewhat 
common, as neither the "b'ys" nor the "gals" appeared to 
give it much attention. These matrimonial insinuations occur 
frequently in the world, and Prudence was not the first woman, 
by a million, who had ventured to make them. 

** I will own I was not so much thinkin' of providin' a wife 
for you, Chainbearer, as I was thinkin' of providin' one for a 
son of mine," continued Thousandacres. "Here's Zephaniah, 
now, is as active and hard-workin', upright, honest and obedi- 
ent a young man as can be found in this country. He's of a 
suitable age, and begins to think of a wife. I tell him to mar- 
ry, by all means, for it's the blessedest condition of life, is the 
married state, that man ever entered into. You wouldn't think 
it, perhaps, on lookin' at old Prudence, there, and beholdiu' 
what she now is ; but I speak from exper'ence in recommendin' 
matrimony ; and I wouldn't, on no account, say what I didn't 
really think in the matter. A little matrimony might settle all 
our difficulties, Chainbearer." 

" You surely do not expect me to marry your son Zephaniah, 
I must s'pose, T'ousantacres !" answered Andries, innocently. 

The laugh, this time, was neither as loud nor as general as 
before, intense expectation rendering the auditors grave. 

" No, no ; I'll excuse you from that, of a sartainty, old An- 
dries ; though you may have Lowiny, if you can only prevail 
on the gal. But speakin' of Zephaniah, I can r'ally ricom- 
mend the young man ; a thing I'd never do if he didn't desarve 
it, though he is my son. No one can say that I'm in the habit 
of ever ricommendin' my own things, even to the boards. The 
lumber of Thousandacres is as well known in all the markets 
below, they tell me, as the flour of any miller in the highest 
credit. It's just so with the b'ys, better lads is not to be met 
with ; and I can ricommend Zephaniah with just as much 
confidence as I could ricommend any lot of boards I ever 
rafted." 



394 THE CH AINBE ARE K. 

"Andwliat liaf I to do wit' all t'is?" asked Cliainbearer, 
gravely. 

**"Why, the matter is here, Chainbearer, if you 11 only look 
a little into it. There's difficulty atween us, and pretty serious 
difficulty, too. In me the accommodatin' spirit is up, as I've 
said afore, and am Avillin' to say ag'in. Now, I've my son 
Zeph, here, as I've said, and he's lookin' about for a wife ; and 
you've a niece here — Dus Malbone, I s'pose is her name — and 
they'd just suit each other. It seems they're acquainted some- 
what, and have kept company some time already, and that'll 
make things smooth, Now Avhat I offer is just this, and no more ; 
not a bit of it. I offer to send off for a magistrate, and I'll 
do't at my own expense ; it shan't cost you a farthin' ; and 
as soon as the magistrate comes, we'll have the young folks 
man-ied on the spot, and that will make etamal peace forever, 
as you must suppose, atween you and me. Wa-a-1, peace made 
atween us, 'twill leave but little to accommodate with the writin' 
owners of the sile, seein' that you're on tarms with 'em all, 
that a body may set you down all as one as bein' of the same 
family, like. If Gin'ral Littlepage makes a p'int of any thing 
of the sort, I'll engage no one of my family, in all futur' time, 
shall ever squat on any lands he may happen to lay claim to, 
whether he owns 'em or not." 

I saw quite plainly that at first, Chainbearer did not fully 
comprehend the nature of the squatter's proposal. Neither did 
Dus herself; though somewhat prepared for such a thing by 
her knowledge of Zephaniah's extravagant wishes on the sub- 
ject. But when Thousandacres spoke plainly of sending for a 
magistrate, and of having the " young folks married on the 
spot," it was not easy to mistake his meaning, and astonish- 
ment was soon succeeded by offended pride, in the breast of 
old Andries, and that to a degree and in a manner I had never 
before witnessed in him. Perhaps I ought, in justice to my 
excellent friend, to add, that his high principles and keen sense 
of right, were quite as much wounded by the strange proposal 
as his personal feelings. It was some time before he could or 



THE CHAINBEARER. 395 

would speak ; wlien he did, it was with a dignity and severity 
of manner which I really had no idea he could assume. The 
thought of Ursula Malbone's being sacrificed to such a being as 
Zephaniah, and such a family as the squatter's, shocked all his 
sensibilities, and appeared, for a moment, to overcome him. On 
the other hand, nothing was plainer than that the breed of Thon- 
sandacres saw no such violation of the proprieties in their 
scheme. The vulgar, almost invariably, in this country, reduce 
the standard of distinction to mere money ; and in this respect 
they saw, or fancied they saw, that Dus was not much better 
off than they were themselves. All those points which depended 
on taste, refinement, education, habits and principles, were He- 
brew to them ; and, quite as a matter of course, they took no 
account of qualities they could neither see nor comprehend. It 
is not surprising, therefore, that they could imagine the young 
squatter might make a suitable husband to one who was known 
to have carried chain in the forest. 

" I pelieve I do begin to unterstant you, T'ousantacres," said 
the Chainbearer, rising from his chair, and moving to the side 
of his niece, as if instinctively to protect her ; *' t'ough it ist not 
a fery easy t'ing to comprehent such a proposal. You wish 
Ursula Malpone to pecome t'e wife of Zephaniah T'ousantacres, 
ant t'ereupon you wish to patch up a peace wit' General Little- 
page and Colonel Follock, ant optain an intemnity for all t'e 
wrong ant roppery you haf done 'em — " 

'* Harkee, old Chainbearer ; you'd best be kearful of your lan- 
guage — " 

*^ Hear what t'at language ist to pe, pefore you interrupt me, 
T'ousantacres. A wise man listens pefore he answers. Alt'ough 
I haf nefer peen marriet myself, I know what ist tecent in pe- 
havior, ant, t'erefore, I wilt t'ank you for t'e wish of pein' con- 
nectet with' t'e Coejemans ant t'e Malpones. T'at tuty tone, I 
wish to say t'at my niece wilt not haf your poy — " 

"You haven't given the gal a chance to speak for herself," 
cried Thousandacres, at the top of his voice, for he began to be 
agitated now with a fury that found a little vent in that manner. 



396 THE CII AINBE ARER. 

"You liaven't given the gal a chance to answer for herself, old 
Andries. Zeph is a lad that she may go farther and fare worse, 
afore she'll meet his equal, I can tell you, though perhaps, bein' 
the b'y's own father, I shouldn't say it — but, in the way of ac- 
commodatin', I'm willin' to overlook a great deal." 

"Zephaniah's an excellent son," put in Prudence, in the 
pride and feeling of a mother, nature having its triumph in her 
breast as well as in that of the most cultivated woman of the 
land. " Of all my sons, Zephaniah is the best; and I account 
him fit to marry with any who don't live in the open country, 
and with many that do." 

" Praise your goots, ant extol your poy, if you see fit," an- 
swered Chainbearer, with a calmness that I knew bespoke some 
desperate resolution. *' Praise your goots, ant extol your poy ; 
I'll not teny your right to do as much of t'at as you wish ; put 
t'is gal wast left me py an only sister on her tyin' pet, ant may 
God forget me, when I forget the tuty I owe to her. She shalt 
nefer marry a son of T'ousantacres — she shalt nefer marry a 
squatter — she shalt nefer marry any man t'at ist not of a class, 
ant feelin's, ant liapits, ant opinions, fit to pe t'e huspant of a 
laty !" 

A shout of derision, in which was blended the fierce resentment 
of mortified pride, arose among that rude crew, but the thunder- 
ing voice of Thousandacres made itself audible, even amid the 
hellish din. 

" Beware, Chainbearer; beware how you aggravate us ; natur' 
can't and wont bear every thing." 

"I want nut' in' of you or yours, T'ousantacres," calmly re- 
turned the old man, passing his arm around the waist of Dus, 
who clung to him, with a cheek that was flushed to fire, but an 
eye that was not accustomed to quail, and who seemed, at that 
fearful moment, every way ready and able to second her uncle's 
eftbrts. "You're nut'in' to me, ant I'll leaf you here, in your 
misteets ant wicket t'oughts. Stant asite, I orter you. Do not 
tare to stop t'e brod'er who is apout to safe his sister's da'ghter 
fron\ pocomin' a squatter's wife. Stant asite, for I'll stay wit' 



THE C II A I N B E A R E U 



3\»7 



you no longer. An hour or two hence, miseraplc Aaron, you'll 
see t'e folly of all t'is, ant wish you hat livet an honest man." 

By this time the clamor of voices became so loud and con- 
fused, as to render it impossible to distinguish what was said. 
Thousandacres actually roared like a maddened bull, and he was 
soon hoarse with uttering his menaces and maledictions. Tobit 
said less, but was probably more dangerous. All the young 
men seemed violently agitated, and bent on closing the door 
on the exit of the Chainbearer ; who, with his arm around Dus, 
still slowly advanced, waving the crowd aside, and commanding 
them to make way for him, with a steadiness and dignity that I 
began to think would really prevail. In the midst of this scene 
of confusion, a rifle suddenly flashed ; the report was simul- 
taneous, and old Andries Coejemans fell. 



^^ 




K_^jMmB 



[198 THE CHAINiiEAREK. 



CHAPTER XXVI. 

** Yo midnight shades, o'er nature spread I 
Dumb silence of the dreary hour I 
la honor of th' approaching dead. 
Around your awful terrors pour. 
Tes, pour around, 
On this pale ground. 
Through all this deep surrounding gloom, 
The sober thought. 
The tear untaught, 
Those meetest mourners at a tomb." 

Mallet. 

Ir is a law of human nature, that the excesses of passion 
brinsT their own rebukes. The violence of man feeds itself, 
until some enormity committed under its influence suddenly 
rises before the transgressor, as the evidence of his blindness 
and the restorer of his senses. Guilt performs the office of rea- 
son, staying the hand, stilling the pulses, and arousing the 
conscience. 

Thus it seemed to be with the squatters of Mooseridge. A 
stillness so profound succeeded the crack of that rifle, that I 
heard the stifled breathing of Dus, as she stood over the body 
of her uncle, astounded, and almost converted into a statue by 
the suddenness of the blow. No one spoke ; no one attempted 
to quit the place ; in fact, no one moved. It was never known 
who fired that shot. At first I ascribed it to the hand of Tobit ; 
but it was owing more to what I knew of his temper and char- 
acter, than to what I knew of his acts at that particular time. 
Afterward, I inclined to the opinion that my friend had fallen 
by the hand of Thousandacrcs himself ; though there were no 
means of bringing it home to him by legal proof. If any knew 
who was the criminal, besides the wretch who executed the 
deed, the fact was never revealed. That family was faithful to 



THE CHAIN BEARER. 39^ 

itself, and seemed determined to stand or fall together. In tlie 
eye of the law, all who were present, aiding and abetting in the 
unlawful detention of Dus and her uncle, were equally guilty ; 
but the hand on which the stain of blood rested in particular, 
was never dragged to light. 

My first impulse, as soon as I could recollect myself, was to 
pass an arm around the waist of Dus and force her through 
the crowd, with a view to escape. Had this attempt been 
persevered in, I think it would have succeeded, so profound 
was the sensation made, even upon those rude and lawless men, 
by the deed of violence that had just been done. But Dus was 
not one to think of self at such a moment. For a single instant 
her head fell on my shoulders, and I held her to my bosom, 
while I whispered my wish for her to fly. Then raising her 
head, she gently extricated her person fi'om my arms, and knelt 
by the side of her uncle. 

''He breathes!" she said huskily, but hastily. "God bo 
praised, Mordaunt, he still breathes. The blow may not be as 
heavy as we at first supposed ; let us do what we can to aid 
him." 

Here were the characteristic decision and thoughtfulness of 
Ursula Malbone I Eising quickly, she turned to the group 
of silent but observant squatters, and appealed to any remains 
of humanity that might still be found in their bosoms, to lend 
their assistance. Thousandacres stood foremost in the dart 
cluster at the door, looking grimly at the motionless body, ovei 
which Dus stood, pale and heartstricken, but still calm and 
collected. 

** The hardest-hearted man among you will not deny a daugh- 
ter's right to administer to a parent's wants !" she said, with a 
pathos in her voice, and a dignity in her manner, that filled me 
with love and admiration, and which had a visible efiect on ah 
who heard her. " Help me to raise my uncle and to place him 
on a bed, while Major Littlepage examines his hurt. You'll not 
deny me this little comfort, Thousandacres, for yon cannot 
know how soon you may want succor yourself !" 



400 THE CIIAINBEARER. 

Zej)Laniah, who ceHainly had no hand in the murder of 
Chainbearer, now advanced ; and he, myself, Lowiny and Dus, 
raised the still motionless body, and placed it on the bed of 
Prudence, which stood in the principal room. There was a 
consultation among the squatters, while we were thus employed, 
and one by one the family dropped off, until no one was left in 
the house but Thousandacres, and his wife, and Lowiny ; the 
latter remaining with Dus, as a useful and even an affectionate 
assistant. The father sat, in moody silence, on one side of the 
fire while Prudence placed herself on the other. I did not like 
the aspect of the squatter's countenance, but he said and did 
nothing. It struck me he was brooding over the facts, nursing his 
resentments by calling up fancied wrongs to his mind, and plotting 
for the future. If such was the case, he manifested great nerve, 
inasmuch as neither alarm nor hurry was, in the slightest degree, 
apparent in his mien. Prudence was dreadfully agitated. She 
said nothing, but her body worked to and fro with nervous excite- 
ment; and occasionally a heavy, but suppressed groan struggled 
through her efforts to resist it. Otherwise, she was as if not present. 

I had been accustomed to seeing gun-shot wounds, and pos- 
sessed such a general knowledge of their effects as to be a toler- 
able judge of what would, and what would not, be likely to 
prove fatal. The first look I took at the hurt of Chainbearer 
convinced me there could be no hope for his life. The ball had 
passed between two of the ribs, and seemed to me to take a 
direction downward ; but it was impossible to miss the vitals 
with a wound commencing at that point on the human body. 
The first shock of the injury had produced insensibility ; but 
we had hardly got the sufferer on the bed, and applied a little 
water to his lips, ere he revived ; soon regaining his conscious- 
ness, as well as the power to speak. Death was on him, how- 
ever ; and it was very obvious to me that his hours were num- 
bered. He might live days, but it was not possible for him to 
survive. 

*'Got pless you, Mortaunt," my old friend murmured, after 
my efforts had thus partially succeeded. "Got forever pless 



THE CIIAINBEARER. 401 

ant prcserf you, poy, ant repay you for all your kintness to me 
ant mine. T'em squatters liaf killet me, lat ; put I forgif t'em. 
T'ey are an ignorant, ant selfisli, and prutal preed ; ant I may 
haf triet 'em too sorely. Put Dus can never pecome t'e wife 
of any of t'e family." 

As Zeplianiah was in the room, though not near the bed at 
the moment, I was anxious to change the current of the wounded 
man's thoughts; and I questioned him as to the nature of his 
hurt, well knowing that Chainbearer had seen so many soldiers 
in situations similar to his own unhappy condition, as to be a 
tolerable judge of his actual state. 

"I'm killet, Mortaunt," old Andries answered, in a tone 
even firmer than that in which he had just spoken. " Apout 
t'at, t'ere can pe no mistake. T'ey haf shot t'rough my rips, 
ant t'rough my vitals ; ant life is impossible. But t'at does not 
matter much to me, for I am an olt man now, hafin' lifet my 
t'reescore years ant ten — no, t'at is no great matter, t'ough 
some olt people cling to life wit' a tighter grip t'an t'e young. 
Such ist not my case, howsefer ; ant I am reaty to march when 
t'e great wort of commant comet'. I am fery sorry, Mortaunt, 
t'at t'is accitent, shoult happen pefore t'e patent hast peen fully 
surfeyet; put I am not pait for t'e work t'at is finishet, ant it 
ist a great comfort to me to know I shall not tie in tebt. I owe 
you, ant I owe my goot frient t'e general, a great teal for 
kintnesses, I must confess; put, in t'e way of money, t'ere wilt 
be no loss by t'is accitent." 

" Mention nothing of this sort, I do entreat of you. Chain- 
bearer ; I know my father would gladly give the best farm he 
owns to see you standing, erect and well, as you were twenty 
minutes since." 

"Well, I tares to say, t'at may be true, for I haf always 
fount t'e general to pe friently and consiterate. I wilt tell you 
a secret, Mortaunt, t'at I haf nefer pefore revealet to mortal man, 
put which t'ere ist no great use in keepin' any longer, ant which 
I shoult have peen willing to haf tolt long ago, hat not t'e gen- 
eral himself mate it a p'int t'at I shoult not speak of it — " 



402 TIIECIIAINBEARER. 

"Perhaps it might be better, my good friend, were you to 
tell me this secret another time. Talking may weary and excite 
you ; whereas, sleep and rest may possibly do you service." 

" No, no, poy — t'e hope of t'at ist all itleness ant vanity. I 
shalt nefer sleep ag'in, tilt I sleep t'e last long sleep of teat' ; I 
feelt sartain my wount ist mortal, ant t'at my time must soon 
come. Nefert'eless, it doesn't gif me pain to talk ; and, Mor- 
taunt, my tear lat, fri'nts t'at pe apout to part for so long a 
time, ought not to part wit'out say in' a wort to one anot'er pe- 
fore separation. I shoult pe glat, in partic'lar, to telt to a son 
all t'e kintness and fri'ntship I have receivet from his fat'er. 
You know fery well, yourself, Mortaunt, t'at I am not great at 
figures ; and why it shoult pe so, ist a wonter ant a surprise to 
me, for my grantfat'er Van Syce was a wonterful man at arit'- 
metic, and t'e first Coejemans in t'is country, t'ey say, kept all 
t'e tominie's accounts for him ! Put, let t'at pe ast it wast, I 
nefer coult do any t'ing wit' figures ; ant, it ist a secret not to 
pe concealet now, Mortaunt, t'at I nefer coult haf helt my com- 
mission of captain six weeks, put for your own fat'er' s kintness 
to me. Fintin' out how impossible it wast for me to get along 
wit' arit'metic, he ofFeret to do all t'at sort of tutyfor me, ant 
t'e whole time we wast toget'er, seven long years ant more, 
Colonel Littlepage mate out t'e reports of Coejeman's company. 
Capital goot reports was t'ey, too, ant t'e atmiration of all t'at 
see t'em; and I often felt ashamet like, when I he'rt t'em 
praiset, and people wonterin' how an olt Tutchman ever I'arnet 
to do his tuty so well ! I shalt nefer see t'e general ag'in, pnt 
I wish you to tell him t'at Andries tit not forget his gootnes? to 
him, to t'e latest preat t'at he trew." 

*' I will do all you ask of me, Chainbearer — surely it must 
give you pain to talk so much ?" 

"Not at all, poy; — not at all. It is goot to t'e poty to 
lighten t'e soul of its opHgations. Ast I see, howsefer, t'atDus 
ist trouplet, I wilt shut my eyes, ant look into my own t' oughts 
a little, for I may not tie for some hours yet." 

It sounded fearful to me to hear one I loved so well speak so 



THE CIIAINBEARER. 403 

calmly, and with so mucli certainty, of his approaching end. 1 
could see that Ursula almost writhed under the agony these 
words produced in her ; yet that noble-minded creature wore 
an air of calmness, that might have deceived one who knew 
her less well than she was known to me. She signed for me to 
quit the side of the bed, in the vain hope that her uncle might 
fall asleep, and placed herself silently on a chair, at hand, in 
readiness to attend to his wants. As for me, I took the occa- 
sion to examine the state of things without, and to reflect on 
what course I ought to take, in the novel and desperate circum- 
stances in which we were so unexpectedly placed ; the time for 
something decisive having certainly arrived. 

It w'as now near an hour after the deed had been done — and 
there sat Thousandacres and his -wife, one on each side of the 
fire, in silent thought. As I turned to look at the squatters, 
and the father of squatters, I saw that his countenance was set 
in that species of sullen moodiness, wdiich might well be taken 
as ominous in a man of his looseness of principle and fierceness 
of temperament. Nor had the nervous twitchings of Prudence 
ceased. In a word, both of these strange beings appeared at 
the end of that hour just as they had appeared at its com- 
mencement. It struck me, as I passed them in moving toward 
the door, that there w-as even a sublimity in their steadiness in 
guilt. I ought, however, in some slight degree to except the 
woman, whose agitation was some proof that she repented of 
what had been done. At the door itself, I found no one ; but, 
two or three of the young men were talking in a low tone to 
each other at no great distance. Apparently they had an eye 
to what was going on within the building. Still no one of 
them spoke to me, and I began to think that the crime already 
committed had produced such a shock, that no further wrong 
to any of us was contemplated, and that I might consider 
myself at liberty to do and act as I saw fit. A twitch at 
my sleeve, however, drew my look aside, and I saw Lowiny 
cowering within the shadow^s of the house, seemingly eager to 
attract my attention. She had been absent some little time, 



404 THE CHAINBEARER. 

and liad probably been listening to the discourse of those 
without. 

** Don't think of venturing far from the house," the girl 
whispered. " The evil spirit has got possession of Tobit ; and 
he has just sworn the same grave shall hold you, and Chain- 
bearer and Dus. * Graves don't turn state's evidence,' he says. 
I never know'd him to be so awful as he is to night ; though 
he's dreadful in temper when any thing goes amiss." 

The girl glided past me as she ceased her hurried communi' 
cation, and the next instant she was standing quietly at the side 
of Dus, in readiness to offer her assistance in any necessary 
office for the sick. I saw that she had escaped notice, and 
then reconnoitred my own position w^ith some little care. 

By this time the night had got to be quite dark ; and it was 
impossible to recognize persons at the distance of twenty feet. 
It is true, one could tell a man from a stump at twice that 
number of yards, or even further ; but the objects of the rude 
clearing began to be confounded together in a w^ay to deprive 
the vision of much of its customary power. That group of 
young men, as I suppose, contained the formidable Tobit ; but 
I could be by no means certain of the fact without approach- 
ing quite near to it. This I did not like to do, as there was 
nothing that I desired particularly to say to any of the family 
at the moment. Could they have known my heart, the squat- 
ters w^ould have felt no uneasiness on the subject of my escap- 
ing, for were Dus quite out of the question, as she neither was 
nor could be, it w^ould be morally impossible for me to desert 
the Chainbearer in his dying moments. Nevertheless, Tobit 
and his brethren did not know this ; and it might be dangerous 
for me to presume too far on the contrary supposition. 

The darkness was intensest near the house, as a matter of 
course ; and I glided along close to the walls of logs until I 
reached an angle of the building, thinking the movement might 
be unseen. But I got an assurance that I was watched that 
would admit of no question, by a call from one of the young 
men, directins: me not to turn the corner or to ceo out of sio-ht 



THE C II A I N B E A R E R . 405 

in any direction, at the peril of my life. This was plain speak- 
ing ; and it induced a short dialogue between us ; in which 1 
avowed my determination not to desert my friends — for the 
Chainbearer would probably not outlive the night — and that I 
felt no apprehension for myself. I was heated and excited, 
and had merely left the house for air ; if they offered no impedi- 
ment I would walk to and fro near them for a few minutes, 
solely with a view to refresh my feverish pulses ; pledging my 
word to make no attempt at escape. This explanation, with the 
accompanying assurance, seemed to satisfy my guard ; and I 
was quietly permitted to do as I had proposed. 

The walk I selected was between the group of squatters and 
the house, and at each turn it necessarily brought me close to 
the young men. At such moments I profited by my position 
to look in through the door of the dwelling at the motionless 
form of Dus, who sat at the bedside of her uncle in the patient, 
silent, tender, and attentive manner of woman, and whom I 
could plainly see in thus passing. Notwithstanding the fidelity 
of my homage to my mistress at these instants, I could per- 
ceive tliat the young men uniformly suspended the low dialogue 
they were holding together, as I approached them, and as uni- 
formly renewed it as I moved away. This induced me grad- 
ually to extend my walk, lengthening it a little on each end, 
until I may have gone as far as a hundred feet on each side of 
the group, which I took for the centre. To have gone farther 
would have been imprudent, as it might seem preparatory to an 
attempt at escape, and to a consequent violation of my word. 

In this manner, then, I may have made eight or ten turns in 
as many minutes, Avhen I heard a low, hissing sound near me, 
while at the extremity of one of my short promenades. A 
stump stood there, and the sound came from the root of the 
stump. At first I fancied I had encroached on the domain of 
some serpent ; though animals of that species, which would be 
likely to give forth such a menace, were even then very rare 
among us. But my uncertainty was soon relieved. 

"Why you no stop at stump?" said Susquesus, in a voice so 



406 THE CIIAINBEARER. 

low as not to be heard at tlie distance of ten feet, wliile it was 
perfectly distinct and not in a whisper. "Got sut'in' tell — glad 
to hear." 

** Wait until I can make one or two more turns ; I will come 
back in a moment,'* was my guarded answer. 

Then I continued my march, placing myself against a stump 
that stood at the other end of my walk, remaining leaning there 
for an entire minute or two, when I returned, passing the young 
men as before. This I did three several times, stopping at 
each turn, as if to rest or to reflect ; and making each succeed- 
ing halt longer than the one that had preceded it. At length 
I took my stand against the very stump that concealed the 
Indian. 

" How came you here, Susquesus ?" I asked ; " and are you 
armed ?" 

'*Yes; got good rifle. Chainbcarer's gun. lie no want him 
any longer, eh?" 

" You know then what has happened ? Chainbearer is mor- 
tally wounded." 

"Datbad — must take scalp to pay for dat! Ole fri'nd — 
good fri'nd. Always kill murderer." 

*'I beg nothing of the sort will be attempted ; but how came 
you here ? — and how came you armed ?" 

*' Jaap do him — come and break open door. Nigger strong 
— do what he like to. Bring rifle — say take him. Wish he 
come sooner— den Chainbearer no get kill. We see." 

I thought it prudent to move on by the time this was said ; 
and I made a turn or two ere I was disposed to come to another 
halt. The truth, however, was now apparent to me. Jaap 
had come in from the forest, forced the fastenings of the Onon- 
dago's prison, given him arms, and they were both out in the 
darkness, prowling round the building, watching for the moment 
to strike a blow, or an opportunity to communicate with me. 
How they had ascertained the fact of Chainbearer's being shot, 
I was left to conjecture ; though Susquesus must have heard 
the report of the rifle ; and an Indian, on such a night as that. 



THE CIIAINBEARER. 407 

left to pursue his own course, would soon ascertain all the lead 
iug points of any circumstance in which he felt an interest. 

My brain was in a whirl as all these details presented them- 
selves to my mind, and I was greatly at a loss to decide on my 
course. In order to gain time for reflection, I stopped a mo- 
ment at the stump, and whispered to the Onondago a request, 
that he would remain where he was until I could give him his 
orders. An expressive "good" was the answer I received, and 
I observed that the Indian crouched lower in his lair, like some 
fierce animal of the woods, that restrained his impatience, in 
order to make his leap, when it did come, more certain and fatal. 

I had now a little leisure for reflection. There lay poor 
Chainbearer, stretched on his death-pallet, as motionless as if 
the breath had already left his body. Dus maintained her post, 
nearly as immovable as her uncle ; while Lowiny stood at hand, 
manifesting the sympathy of her sex in the mourning scene 
before her. I caught glimpses, too, in passing, of Thousand- 
acres and Prudence. It appeared to me as if the first had not 
stirred, from the moment when he had taken his seat on the 
hearth. His countenance was as set, his air as moody, and his 
attitude as stubborn, as each had been in the first five minutes 
after the Chainbearer fell. Prudence, too, was as unchanged 
as her husband. Her body continued to rock, in nervous ex- 
citement, but not once had I seen her raise her eyes from the 
stone of the rude hearth that covered nearly one-half of the 
room. The fire had nearly burned down, and, no one replen- 
ishing the brush which fed it, a flickering flame alone remained 
to cast its wavering light over the forms of these two conscience- 
stricken creatures, rendering them still more mysterious and 
forbidding. Lowiny had indeed lighted a thin, miserable can- 
dle of tallow, such as one usually sees in the lowest habitations ; 
but it was placed aside, in order to be removed from before the 
sight of the supposed slumberer, and added but little to the 
light of the room. Notwithstanding, I could and did see all I 
have described, stopping for some little time at a point that 
commanded a view of the interior of the house. 



408 THE C II A I N B E A UE 11. 

Of Diis, I could ascertain but little. She was nearly immov- 
able at the bedside of her uncle, but her countenance was 
veiled from view. Suddenly, and it was at one of those mo- 
ments when I had stopped in front of the building, she dropped 
on her knees, buried her face in the coverlet, and became lost in 
prayer. Prudence started as she saw this act ; then she arose, 
after the fashion of those who imagine they have contributed 
to the simplicity, and consequently to the beauty of worship, 
by avoiding the ceremony of kneeling to Almighty God, and 
stood erect, moving to and fro, as before, her tall, gaunt figure, 
resembling some half-decayed hemlock of the adjacent forest, 
that has lost the greater portion of its verdure, rocked by a 
tempest. I was touched, notwithstanding, at this silent evidence 
that the woman retained some of the respect and feeling for 
the services of the Deity, which, though strangely blended with 
fanaticism and a pertinacious self-righteousnesss, no doubt had 
a large influence in bringing those who belonged to her race 
across the Atlantic,, some five or six generations previously to 
her own. 

It was just at this instant that I recognized the voice of Tobit, 
as he advanced toward the group composed of his brethren ; 
and speaking to his wife, who accompanied him as far as his 
father's habitation, and there left him, apparently to return to 
her own. I did not distinguish what was said, but the squat- 
ter spoke sullenly, and in the tone of one whose humor was 
menacing. Believing that I might meet with some rudeness of 
a provoking character from this man, should he see me walking 
about in the manner I had now been doing for near a quarter 
of an hour, ere he had the matter explained, I thought it wisest 
to enter the building, and effect an object I had in view, by 
holding a brief conversation with Thousandacres. 

This determination was no sooner formed than I put it in 
execution ; trusting that the patience of the Indian, and Jaap's 
habits of obedience, would prevent any thing like an outbreak 
from them, without orders. As I re-entered the room, Dus was 
still on her knees, and Prudence continued erect, oscillating as 



THE CHAIN BE ARE R. 409 

before, with lier eyes riveted on the hearth. Lowiny stood 
near the bed, and I thought, like her mother, she was in some 
measure mingling in spirit, with the prayer. 

" Thousandacres," I commenced in a low voice, drawing 
quite near to the squatter, and succeeding in causing him to 
look at me, by my address — *' Thousandacres, this has been 
a most melancholy business, but every thing should be done 
that can be done, to repair the evil. Will you not send a 
messenger through to the 'Nest, to obtain the aid of the 
physician ?" 

*' Doctors can do but little good to a wound made by a rifle 
that was fired so cluss, young man. I want no doctors here, to 
betray me and mine to the law." 

" Nay, your messenger can keep your secret ; and I will give 
him gold to induce the physician to come, and come at once. 
He can be told that I am accidentally hurt, and might still 
reach us to be of service in alleviating pain ; I confess there is 
no hope for any thing else." 

** Men must take their chances," coldly returned that obdu- 
rate being. " Them that live in the woods, take woodsmen's 
luck; and them that live in the open country, the open country 
luck. My family and lumber must be presarved at all risks ; 
and no doctor shall come here." 

What was to be done — what could be done, with such a be- 
ing ? All principle, all sense of right, was concentrated in self 
— in his moral system. It was as impossible to make him see 
the side of any question that was opposed to his interests, fan- 
cied or real, as it was to give sight to the physically blind. I 
had hoped contrition was at work upon him, and that some ad- 
vantage might be obtained through the agency of so powerful a 
mediator ; but no sooner was his dull nature aroused into any 
thing like action, than it took the direction of selfishness, as the 
needle points to the pole. 

Disgusted at this exhibition of the most confirmed trait of 
the squatter's character, I was in the act of moving from him, 
when a loud shout arose around the building, and the flashes 
IS 



410 THE CH AINKE A REK. 

and reports of three or four rifles were lieard. Rushing to the 
door, I was in time to hear the tramp of men, who seemed to 
me to be pushing forward in all directions ; and the crack of 
the rifle was occasionally heard, apparently retiring toward the 
woods. Men called to each other, in the excitement of a chase 
and conflict; but I could gain no information, the body of dark- 
ness which had settled on the place having completely hidden 
every thing from view, at any distance. 

In this state of most painful doubt I continued for five or six 
minutes, the noise of the chase receding the whole time, when 
a man came rushing up to the door of the hut where I stood, 
and, seizing my hand, I found it was Frank Malbone. The 
succor, then, had arrived, and I was no longer a captive. 

*' God be praised ! you at least are safe," cried Malbone. 
*' But my dear sister?" 

" Is there unharmed, watching by the side of her uncle's dying 
bed. Is any one hurt without ?" 

"That is more than I can tell you. Your black acted as 
guide, and brought us down on the place so skilfully, that it was 
not my intention to resort to arms at all, since we might have 
captured all the squatters without firing a shot, had my orders 
been observed. But a rifle was discharged from behind a 
stump, and this drew a volley from the enemy. Some of our 
side returned the discharge, and the squatters then took to 
flight. The firing you have just heard is scattered discharges 
that have come from both sides, and can be only sound, as any 
aim is impossible in this obscurity. My own piece has not even 
been cocked, and I regret a rifle has been fired." 

" Perhaps all is then well, and we have driven ofi" our enemies 
without doing them any harm. Are you strong enough to keep 
them at a distance ?" 

"Perfectly so ; we are a posse of near thirty men, led by an 
under-sheriff" and a maojistrate. All we wanted was a direction 
to this spot, to have arrived some hours earlier." 

"I groaned in spirit at hearing this, since those few houra 
might have saved the life of poor Chainbearer. As it was, 



THE CHAINBEARER. 411 

however, this rescue was the subject of grateful rejoicing, and 
one of the happiest moments of my life was that in which I 
saw Dus fall on her brother's bosom and burst into tears. I 
was at their side, in the doorway of the hut, when this meeting 
took place ; and Dus held out a hand aflfectionately to me, as 
she withdrew herself from her brother's arms. Frank Malbone 
looked a little surprised at this act ; but, anxious to see and 
speak to Chainbearer, he passed into the building, and ap- 
proached the bed. Dus and I followed ; for the shouts and 
firing had reached the ears of the wounded man, and Andrie?. 
was anxious to learn their meaning. The sight of Malbone let 
him into a general knowledge of the state of the facts ; but a 
strong anxiety was depicted in his falling countenance, as he 
looked toward me for information. 

" What is it, Mortaunt?" he asked, with considerable strength 
of voice, his interest in the answer probably stimulating his 
physical powers. ** What is it, poy? I hope t'ere hast peen 
no useless fightin' on account of a poor olt man like me, who 
hast seen his t'reescore years ant ten, ant who owest to his 
Maker t'e life t'at wast grantet to him seventy long years ago. 
I hope no one hast peen injuret in so poor a cause." 

** We know of no one beside yourself, Chainbearer, who has 
been hurt to-night. The firing you have heard, comes from the 
party of Frank Malbone, which has just arrived, and which has 
driven off the squatters by noise more than by any harm that 
has been done them." 

" Got pe praiset ! Got pe praiset ! I am glat to see Frank 
pefore I tie, first to take leaf of him, as an olt frient, ant sec- 
ontly to place his sister, Dus, in his care. T'ey haf wantet to 
gif Dus one of t'ese squatters for a huspant, by way of making 
peace petween t'ieves ant honest people. T'at woult nefer do, 
Frank, as you well know Dus ist t'e ta'ghter of a gentleman, 
ant t'e ta'ghter of a laty; ant she ist a gentlewoman herself, 
ant ist not to pe marriet to a coarse, rute, illiterate, vulgar 
squatter. Wast I young, ant wast I not t'e gal's uncle, 7 shoult 
not venture to s'pose I coult make her a fit companion myself, 



412 THE CIIAINBEARER. 

peing too little edicated ant instructet, to pe the liuspant of one 
like Dus Malpone." 

*' There is no fear now, that any such calamity can befall my 
sister, my dear Chainbearer, answered Frank Malbone. *'Nor 
do I think any threats or dangers could so far intimidate Dus, 
as to cause her to plight her faith to any man she did not 
love or respect. They would have found my sister difficult to 
coerce." 

" It ist pest ast it ist, Frank — yes, it ist pest ast it ist. T'ese 
squatters are fery sat rascals, ant woult not pe apt to stop at 
trifles. Ant, now we are on t'is supject, I wilt say a wort more 
consarnin' your sister. I see she hast gone out of t'e hut to 
weep, ant she wilt not hear what I haf to say. Here ist Mor- 
taunt Littlepage, who says he lofes Dus more ast man efer lovet 
woman pefore — " Frank started, and I fancied that his counte- 
nance grew dark — " ant what ist nat'ral enough, when a man 
dost truly lofe a woman in t'at tegree, he wishes fery, fery much 
to marry her" — Frank's countenance brightened immediately, 
and seeing my hand extended toward him, he grasped it and 
gave it a most cordial pressure. " Now, Mortaunt woult pe an 
excellent match for Dus — a most capital match, for he ist young 
ant goot lookin', ant prave, ant honoraple, ant sensiple, ant 
rich, all of which pe fery goot t'ings in matrimony ; put, on t'e 
ot'er hant, he hast a fat'er, ant a mot'er, ant sisters, ant it ist 
nat'ral, too, t'at t'ey shoult not like, overmuch, to haf a son ant 
a prot'er marry a gal t'at hasn't any t'ing put a set of chains, a 
new compass, ant a few fielt articles t'at wilt fall to her share 
a'ter my teat'. No, no ; we must t'ink of t'e honor of t'e Coe- 
jemans ant t'e Malpones, ant not let our peloved gal go into a 
family t'at may not want her." 

I could see that Frank Malbone smiled, though sadly, as he 
listened to this warning ; for, on him, it made little or no im- 
pression, since he was generous enough to judge me by himself, 
and did not believe any such mercenary considerations would 
influence my course. I felt differently, however. Obstinacy in 
o]>inion, was one of the weak points in Chainbearer' s character, 



THE CHAINBEARER. 413 

and I saw tlic danger of his leaving these sentiments as a legacy 
to Dus. She, indeed, had been the first to entertain them, and 
to communicate them to her uncle, and they might revive in 
her when she came to reflect on the true condition of things, 
and become confirmed by the dying requests of her uncle. It 
is true, that in our own interview, when I obtained from the 
dear girl the precious confession of her love, no such obstacle 
seemed to exist, but both of us appeared to look forward wdth 
confidence to our future union as to a thing certain ; but at that 
moment, Dus was excited by my declarations of the most ardent 
and unutterable attachment, and led away by the strength of 
her own feelings. We were in the delirium of delight produced 
by mutual confidence, and the full assurance of mutual love, 
when Thousandacres came upon us, to carry us to the scenes of 
woe by which we had been, and were still, in a degree, sur- 
rounded. Under such circumstances, one might well fall under 
the influence of feelings and emotions that would prove to be 
more controllable in cooler moments. It was all-important, 
then, for me to set Chainbearer right in the matter, and to have 
a care he did not quit us, leaving the two persons he most 
loved on earth, very unnecessarily miserable, and that solely on 
account of the strength of his own prejudices. Nevertheless, 
the moment was not favorable to pursue such a purpose, and I 
was reflecting bitterly on the future, when we were all startled 
by a heavy groan that seemed to come out of the very depths 
of the chest of the squatter. 

Frank and I turned instinctively toward the chimney, on 
hearing this unlooked-for interruption. The chair of Prudence 
was vacant, the woman having rushed from the hut at the first 
sound of the recent alarm; most probably, in quest of her 
younger children. But Thousandacres remained in the very 
seat he had now occupied nearly, if not quite, two hours. I 
observed, however, that his form was not as erect as when pre- 
viously seen. It had sunk lower in the chair, while his chin 
hung down upon his breast. Advancing nearer, a small pool 
of blood was seen on the stones beneath lum, and a short ex- 



414 



THE CIIAINBEARER. 



animation told Malbone and myself, that a rifle-bullet liad passed 
directly tlirougli his body, in a straight line, and that only three 
inches above the hips ! 







THE CHAINBEAEER. 415 



CHAPTER XXVII. 

* With woful measures, wan despair — 
Low, sulleu sounds his grief beguil'd, 
A solemn, strange, and mingled air; 
'Twas sad by fits, by starts 'twas wild," 

Collins. 

Thousandacres had been sliot in liis chair, by one of the 
rifles first discharged that night. As it turned out, he was the 
only one that we could ascertain was hurt ; though there was a 
report, to which many persons gave credence, that Tobit had a 
leg broken, also, and that he remained a cripple for life. I am 
inclined to believe this report may have been true ; for Jaap 
told me, after all was over, that he let fly on a man who had 
just fired on himself, and who certainly fell, and was borne off" 
limping, by two of his companions. It is quite probable that 
this hurt of Tobit's, and the fate of his father, Avas the reason 
we received no more annoyance that night from the squatters, 
who had all vanished from the clearing so efiectually, including 
most of the females and all the children, that no traces of their 
place of retreat were to be found next morning. Lowiny, how- 
ever, did not accompany the family, but remained near Dus, 
rendering herself highly useful as an attendant in the melancholy 
scene that followed. I may as well add here, that no evidence 
was ever obtained concerning the manner in which Thousand- 
acres received his death-wound. He was shot through the 
open door, beyond all question, as he sat in his chair ; and nec- 
essarily in the early part of the fray, for then only was a rifle 
discharged very near the house, or from a point that admitted 
of the ball's hitting its victim. For myself, I believed from the 
first thnt Susquesus sacrificed the squatter to the manes of his 
friend Chainbearer ; dealing out Indian justice, without hesita- 



416 THE CHAINBEARKR. 

tion or compunction. Still, I could not be certain of tlie fact ; 
and the Onondago had either sufficient prudence or sufficient 
philosophy to keep his own secret. It is true that a remark or 
two did escape him, soon after the affair occurred, that tended 
to sustain my suspicions ; but, on the whole, he was remarkably 
reserved on the subject — less from any apprehension of conse- 
quences, than from self-respect and pride of character. There 
was little to be apprehended, indeed ; the previous murder of 
Chainbearer, and the unlawful nature of all the proceedings of 
the squatters, justifying a direct and sudden attack on the part 
of the posse. 

Just as Malbone and myself discovered the condition of 
Thousandacres, this posse, with 'Squire Newcome at its head, 
began to collect around the house, which might now be temicd 
our hospital. As the party was large, and necessarily a little 
tumultuous, I desired Frank to lead them ofi' to some of the 
other buildings, as soon as a bed had been prepared for the 
squatter, who was placed in the same room with Chainbearer to 
die. No one, in the least acquainted with injuries of that na- 
ture, could entertain any hope for either ; though a messenger 
was sent to the settlements for the individual who was called 
" doctor," and who was really fast acquiring many useful notions 
about his profession, by practising on the human system. They 
say that *' an ounce of experience is worth a pound of theory," 
and this disciple of Esculapius seemed to have set up in his art 
on this principle ; having little or none of the last, while he 
was really obtaining a very respectable amount of the first, 
as he practised right and left, as the pugilist is most apt to 
hit in his rallies. Occasionally, however, he gave a knock-down 
blow. 

As soon as the necessary arrangements were made in our 
hospital, I told Dus that we would leave her and Lowiny in 
attendance on the wounded, both of whom manifested weari- 
ness and a disposition to doze, while all the rest of the party 
would draw off, and take up their quarters for the night in the 
adjacent buildings. Malbone was to remain as a sentinel, a 



THE OHAINBUABBB. 417 

little distance from tlic door, and I promised to join him in the 
course of an hotir. 

" Lowiny can attend to the wants of her fhther, while you 
will have the tenderest care of your uncle, I well know. A little 
drink occasionally is all that can alleviate their suflferings — " 

" Let me come in," interrupted a hoarse female voice at the 
door, as a woman forced her way through the opposing arms 
of several of the posse. " I am Aaron's wife, and they tell me 
he is hurt. God himself has ordered that a woman should 
cleave unto her husband, and Thousandacres is mine ; and he 
is the father of my children, if he has murdered, and been mur- 
dered in his turn." 

There was something so commanding in the natural emotions 
of this woman, that the guard at the door gave way immediately, 
when Prudence entered the room. The first glance of the 
squatter's wife was at the bed of Chainbearer ; but nothing 
there held her gaze riveted. That gaze only became fixed as 
her eyes fell on the large form of Thousandacres, as he lay ex- 
tended on his death-bed. It is probable that this experienced 
matron, who had seen so many accidents in the course of a long 
life, and had sat by so many a bedside, understood the desperate 
nature of her husband's situation as soon as her eyes fell on the 
fallen countenance ; for, turning to those near her, the first im- 
pulse was, to revenge the wrong which she conceived had been 
done to her and hers. I will acknowledge that I felt awed, and 
that a thrill passed through my frame as this rude and unnur- 
tured female, roused by her impulses, demanded authoritatively : 

" Who has done this ? Who has taken the breath from my 
man before the time set by the Lord ? Who has dared to make 
my children fatherless, and me a widow, ag'in law and right ? 
I left my man seated on that hearth, heart-stricken and troubled 
at what had happened to another; and they tell me he has been 
murdered in his chair. The Lord will be on our side at last, 
and then we'll see whom the law will favor, and whom the law 
will condemn — ! " 

A movement and a groan, on the part of Thousandacres, 



413 THE CHAINBEARER. 

would seem first to have apprised Prudence that her husband 
was not actually dead. Starting at this discovery, this tiger's 
mate and tiger's dam, if not tigress herself, ceased every thing 
like appeal and complaint, and set herself about those duties 
which naturally suggested themselves to one of her experience, 
with the energy of a frontier woman — a woodsman's wife, and 
the mother of a large brood of woodsman's sons and daughters. 
She wiped the face of Thousandacres, wet his lips, shifted his 
pillow, such as it was, placed his limbs in postures she thought 
the easiest, and otherwise manifested a sort of desperate energy 
in her care. The whole time she was doing this, her tongue 
was muttering prayers and menaces, strangely blended together, 
and quite as strangely mixed up with epithets of endearment 
that were thrown away on her still insensible and least uncon- 
scious husband. She called him Aaron, and that too in a 
tone that sounded as if Thousandacres had a strong hold on 
hex affections, and might at least have been kind and true to her. 
I felt convinced that Dus had nothing to fear from Prudence, 
and I left the place as soon as the two nurses had every thing- 
arranged for their respective patients, and the house was quite 
free from the danger of intrusion. On quitting her who now 
occupied most of my thoughts, I ventured to whisper a request 
she would not forget the pledges given me in the forest, and 
asked her to summon me to the bedside of Chainbearer, should 
he rouse himself from the slumber that had come over him, and 
manifest a desire to converse. I feared he might renew the 
subject to which his mind had already once adverted since re- 
ceiving his wound, and imbue his niece with some of his own 
set notions on that subject. Ursula was kindness itself. Her 
affliction had even softened her feelings toward me more than 
ever; and, so far as she was concerned, I certainly had no 
ground for uneasiness. In passing Frank, who stood o.n post 
some twenty yards from the door of the house, he said : *'God 
bless you, Littlepage — fear nothing. I am too much in your 
own situation, not to be warmly your friend." I returned his 
good washes, and went my way, in one sense rejoicing. 



THE CHAINBEARER. 419 

• The posse, as has been stated, were in possession of the dif- 
ferent deserted habitations of the family of Thousandacres. The 
night being cool, fires were blazing on all the hearths, and the 
place wore an air of cheerfulness that it had probably never be- 
fore known. Most of the men had crowded into two of the 
dwellings, leaving a third for the convenience of the magistrate, 
Frank Malbone, and myself, whenever we might choose to 
repair to it. By the time I appeared, the posse had supped, 
using the milk and bread, and other eatables of the squatters, 
ad libitum^ and were disposing of themselves on the beds and 
on the floors, to take a little rest, after their long and rapid 
march. But in my own quarters I found 'Squire Newcome 
alone, unless the silent and motionless Onondago, who occu- 
pied a chair in a corner of the fireplace, could be called 
a companion. Jaap, too, in expectation of my arrival, was 
lounging near the door ; and when I entered the house, he fol- 
lowed me in for orders. 

It was easy for me, who knew of Newcome's relations with 
the squatters, to discover the signs of confusion in his counte- 
nance, as his eye first met mine. One who was not acquainted 
with the circumstances, most probably would have detected 
nothing out of the common way. It will be remembered that 
the "'squire" had no positive knowledge that I was acquainted 
with his previous visit to the mill ; and it will be easy to see 
that he must have felt an itching and uneasy desire to ascertain 
that fact. A great deal depended on that circumstance ; nor 
was it long before I had a specimen of his art in sounding round 
the truth, with a view to relieve his mind, 

** Who'd 'a' thought of findin' Major Littlepage in the hands 
of the Philistines, in sich an out o' the way place as this !" ex- 
claimed Mr. Newcome, as soon as our salutations had been 
exchanged^ " I've heern say there was squatters down here- 
abouts; but such things are so common, that I never bethought 
rac of givin' him a hint on the matter when I last saw the 
major.'* 

Nothing could surpass the deferential manner of this person 



420 THE C H A I N B E A K E R . 

when he had an object to gain, it being quite common with 
him to use the third person, in this way, wben addressing a supe- 
rior ; a practice that has almost become obsolete in the English 
language, and which is seldom if ever used in America, except 
by this particular class of men, who defer before your face, and 
endeavor to undermine when the back is turned. My humor 
was not to trifle with this fellow, though I did not know that it 
was exactly prudent, just then, to let him know that I had both 
seen and heard him in his former visit, and was fully aware of 
all his practices. It was not easy, however, to resist the op- 
portunity given by his own remarks, to put him a little way 
on the tenter-hooks of conscience — that quality of the human 
mind being one of the keenest allies an assailant can possess, in 
cases of this sort. 

"I had supposed, Mr. Newcome, that you were generally 
charged with the care of the Mooseridge lands, as one of the con- 
ditions annexed to the Ravensnest agency ?" I somewhat dryly 
remarked. 

" Sartain, sir; the colonel — or gin'ral, as he ought to be 
called now, I do s'pose — gave me the superintendence of both 
at the same time. But the major knows, I presume, that 
Mooseridge was not on sale ?" 

*' No, sir ; it would seem to have been only on 2yhinder. One 
would think that an agent, entrusted with the care of an estate, 
and who heard of squatters being in possession, and stripping 
the land of its trees, would feel it to be his duty at least to ap- 
prise the owners of the circumstance, that they might look to 
the case, if he did not." 

" The major hasn't rightly understood me," put in the 'squire, 
in a manner that was particularly deprecatory ; "I don't mean 
to say that I knoiv^d, with any thing like positiveness, that there 
was squatters hereabouts ; but that rumors was stirrin' of some 
sich things. But squatters is sich common objects in new coun- 
tries, that a body scarce turns aside to look at them !" 

"So it would seem, in your case at least, Mr. Newcome. 
This Thousandacres, however, they tell me, is a well-known 



THE CIIAINBEARER. 421 

character, and has done little since his youth but lumber on the 
property of other people. I should suppose you must have met 
him, in the course of five-and-twenty years' residence in this 
part of the world ?" 

*'Lord bless the major! met Thousandacres ? Why, I've 
met him a hundred times !" We all know the old man well 
enough ; and many and many is the time I've met him at 
raisin's, and trainin's, and town meetin's, and political meetin's, 
too. I've even seen him in court, though Thousandacres don't 
set much store by law, not half as much as he and every other 
man ought to do ; for law is excellent, and society would be no 
better than a collection of wild beasts, as I often tell Miss New- 
come, if it hadn't law to straighten it out, and to teach the 
misguided and evil-disposed Avhat's right. I s'pose the major 
will coincide with that idee ?" 

"I have no particular objection to the sentiment, sir, but 
wish it was more general. As you have seen this person Thou- 
sandacres so often, perhaps you can tell me something of his 
character. My opportunities of knowing the man have been 
none of the best ; for most of the time I was his prisoner he 
had me shut up in an out-building in which I believe he has 
usually kept his salt, and grain, and spare provisions." 

" Not the old store' us' !" exclaimed the magistrate, looking 
a little aghast, for the reader will doubtless recollect that the 
confidential dialogue between him and the squatter, on the sub- 
ject of the lumber, had occurred so near that building as to bo 
overheard by me. " How long has the major been in this 
clearin', I wonder ?" 

'' Not a very great while in fact, though long enough to 
make it appear a week. I was put into the storehouse soon 
after my seizure, and have passed at least half my time there 
since." 

*' I want to know ! Perhaps the major got in that hole as 
'arly as yesterday mom ?" 

" Perhaps I did, sir. But, Mr. Newcome, on looking round 
at the quantity of lumber these men have made, and recollect- 



4:22 THE CHAIN BEARER. 

ing tlie distance they are from Albany, I am at a loss to imair- 
ine liow they could hope to get their ill-gotten gains to market 
without discovery. It would seem to me that their movements 
must be known, and that the active and honest agents of this 
part of the country would seize their rafts in the watercourses ; 
thus making the very objects of the squatters' roguery the means 
of their punishment. Is it not extraordinary that theft, in a 
moral sense at least, can be systematically carried on, and that 
on so large a scale, with such entire impunity ?" 

" Wa-a-1 — I s'pose the major knows how things turn, in this 
world. Nobody likes to meddle." 

" How, sir — not meddle ! This is contrary to all my expe- 
rience of the habits of the country, and all I have heard of it ! 
Meddling, I have been given to understand, is the great vice of 
our immigrant population, in particular, who never think they 
have their just rights, unless they are privileged to talk about, 
and sit in judgment on the affairs of all within twenty miles of 
them ; making two-thirds of their facts as they do so, in order 
to reconcile their theories with the wished-for results." 

"Ah ! I don't mean meddlin' in that sense, of which there 
is enough, as all must allow. But folks don't like to meddle 
with things that don't belong to them in such serious matters as 
this." 

" I understand you — the man who will pass days in discuis- 
ing his neighbor's private affairs, about which he absolutely 
knows nothing but what has been obtained from the least re- 
sponsible and most vulgar sources, will stand by and see that 
neighbor robbed and say nothing, under the influence of a sen- 
timent so delicate, that it forbids his meddling with what don't 
belong to him !" 

Lest the reader should think I was unduly severe upon 'Squire 
Newcome, let me appeal to his own experience, and inquire if 
he never knew, not only individuals, but whole neighborhoods, 
which were sorely addicted to prying into every man's affairs, 
and to inventing when facts did not exactly sustain theories ; in 
a word, convulsing themselves with that with which they have 



THE CHAIN BEARER. 423 

no real concern, draw themselves up in dignified reserve, as the 
witnesses of wrongs of all sorts, that every honest man is bound 
to oppose ? I will go further, and ask if a man does happen 
to step forth to vindicate the right, to assert truth, to defend 
the weak and to punish the wrong-doer, if that man be not 
usually the one who meddles least in the more ordinary and 
minor transactions of life — the man who troubles his neierhbors 
least, and has the least to say about their private affairs ? Docs 
it not happen that the very individual who will stand by and 
see his neighbor wronged, on account of his indisposition to 
meddle with that which does not belong to him, will occupy a 
large portion of his own time in discussing, throwing out hints, 
and otherwise commenting on the private affairs of that very 
neighbor ? 

Mr. Newcome was shrewd, and he understood me well 
enough, though he probably found it a relief to his apprehen- 
sions to see the conversation inclining toward these generalities, 
instead of sticking to the storehouse. Nevertheless, "boards" 
must have been uppermost in his conscience ; and after a pause 
he made an invasion into the career of Thousandacres, by way 
of diverting me from pushing matters too directly. 

"This old squatter was a desperate man. Major Littlepagc," 
he answered, " and it may be fortinate for the country that he 
is done with. I hear the old fellow is killed, and that all the 
rest of the family has absconded." 

"It is not quite so bad as that. Thousandacres is hurt — 
mortally, perhaps — and all his sons have disappeared ; but his 
wife and one of his daughters are still here, in attendance on 
the husband and father." 

"Prudence is here, then !" exclaimed Mr. Newcome, a little 
indiscreetly as I thought. 

" She is — but you seem to know the family well for a magis- 
trate, 'squire, seeing their ordinary occupation — so well, as to 
call the woman by her name." 

" Prudence, I think Thousandacres used to call his woman. 
Yes, the major is very right ; Ave magistrates do get to know 



424 THE CII AI NBE A RE R. 

the neighborhood pretty gin'rally ; what between summonses, 
and warrants, and bailings-out. But the major hasn't yet said 
when he first fell into the hands of these folks ?" 

*' I first entered this clearing yesterday morning, not a long 
lime after the sun rose, since which time, sir, I have been de- 
tained, here, either by force or by circumstances." 

A long pause succeeded this announcement. The 'squire 
fidgeted, and seemed uncertain how to act ; for, while my an- 
nouncement must have given rise, in his mind, to the strong 
probability of my knowing of his connection with the squatters, 
it did not absolutely say as much. I could see that he was de- 
bating with himself on the expediency of coming out with some 
tale invented for the occasion, and I turned toward the Indian 
and the negro, both of whom I knew to be thoroughly honest 
— after the Indian and the negro fashions — in order to say a 
friendly word to each in turn. 

Susquesus was in one of his quiescent moods, and had lighted 
a pipe, which he was calmly smoking. No one, to look at him, 
w^ould suppose that he had so lately been engaged in a scene 
like that through which he had actually gone ; but, rather, that 
he was some thoughtful philosopher, who habitually passed his 
time in reflection and study. 

As this was one of the occasions on which the Onondao-o 
came nearest to admitting his own agency in procuring the 
death of the squatter, I shall relate the little that passed be- 
tween us. 

" Good evening, Sureflint," I commenced, extending a hand, 
which the other courteously took in compliance with our cus- 
toms. " I am glad to see you at large, and no longer a prisoner 
in that storehouse." 

" Store'us' poor gaol. Jaap snap off bolt like pipe-stem. 
Won'er T'ousandacres didn't t'ink of d'at." 

'* Thousandacres has had too much to think of this even- 
ing, to remember such a trifle. He has now to think of his 
end." 

The Onondago was clearing the bowl of his pipe of its super 



THE CHAINBEARER. 425 

fluous ashes as I said this, and he deliberately effected his pur- 
pose ere he answered — 

" Sartain — s'pose he kill dis time." 

*' I fear his hurt is mortal, and greatly regret that it has hap- 
pened. The blood of our tried friend, Chainbcarer, was enough 
to be shed in so miserable an affair as this." 

" Yes, 'fair pretty mis'rable ; t'ink so, too. If squatter shoot 
surveyor, must t'ink surveyor's fri'nd will shoot squatter." 

'* That may be Indian law, Sureflint, but it is not the law of 
the pale-face, in the time of peace and quiet." 

Susquesus continued to smoke, making no answer. 

*'It was a very wicked thing to murder Chainbearer, and 
Thousandacres should have been handed over to the magistrates, 
for punishment, if he had a hand in it ; not shot, like a dog." 

The Onondago drew his pipe from his mouth, looked round 
toward the 'squire, who had gone to the door in order to 
breathe the fresh air — then, turning his eyes most significantly 
on me, he answered — 

*' Who magistrate go to, eh? What use good law wit' poor 
magistrate ? Better have red-skin law, and warrior be his own 
magistrate — own gallows, too." 

The pipe was replaced, and Sureflint appeared to be satisfied 
with what had passed ; for he turned away, and seemed to be 
lost again, in his own reflections. 

After all, the strong native intellect of this barbarian had let 
him into one of the greatest secrets connected with our social 
ills. Good laws, badly administered, are no better than an 
absence of all law, since they only encourage evil-doers by the 
protection they afford through the power conferred on improper 
agents. Those who have studied the defects of the American 
system, with a view to ascertain truth, say that the want of a 
great moving power to set justice in motion lies at the root of 
its feebleness. According to theory, the public virtue is to 
constitute this power; but public virtue is never one-half as 
active as private vice. Crime is only to be put down by the 
strong hand, and that hand must belong to the public in truth, 



426 THE C II AI NBE A RE R. 

not ill name only ; whereas, tlie individual wronged is fast get- 
ting to be tlie only moving power, and in very many cases local 
parties are formed, and the rogue goes to the bar sustained by 
an authority that has quite as much practical control as the 
law itself. Juries and grand juries are no longer to be relied 
on, and the bench is slowly, but steadily, losing its influence. 
When the day shall come — as come it must, if present tenden- 
cies continue — that verdicts are rendered directly in the teeth 
of law and evidence, and jurors fancy themselves legislators, 
then may the just man fancy himself approaching truly evil 
times, and the patriot begin to despair. It will be the com- 
mencement of the rogue's paradise ! Nothing is easier, I am 
willing to admit, than to over-govern men ; but it ought not to 
be forgotten, that the political vice that comes next in the scale 
of facility, is to govern them too little. 

Jaap, or Jaaf, had been humbly waiting for his turn to be 
noticed. There existed perfect confidence, as between him and 
myself, but there were also bounds, in the way of respect, that 
the slave never presumed to pass, without direct encouragement 
from the master. Had I not seen fit to speak to the black that 
night, he would not have commenced a conversation, which, 
begun by me, he entered into with the utmost frankness and 
freedom from rcistraijit. 

*' You seem to have managed your part of this affair, Jaap," 
I said, " with discretion and spirit. I have every reason to be 
satisfied with you ; more especially for liberating the Indian, 
and for the manner in which you guided the posse down into 
the clearing, from the woods." 

*' Yes, sah ; s'pose you would t'ink dat was pretty well. As 
for Sus, t' ought it best to let him out, for he be won'erful sartain 
wid he rifle. We should do much better, masser Mordy, but 'e 
'squire so werry backward about lettin 'e men shoot 'em 'ere 
squatter ! Gosh ! masser Mordy, if he only say ' fire' when I 
want him, I don't t'ink so much as half a one get off." 

'* It is best as it is, Jaap. We are at peace, and in the bosom 
of our country ; and bloodshed is to be avoided." 



THE CIIAINBEARER. 427 

**Yes, sail ; but Chainbearcr ! If 'ey don't like bloodshed, 
why 'ey shoot him, sah?" 

"There is a feeling of justice in what you say, Jaap, but the 
community cannot get on in any thing like safety unless we let 
the law rule. Our business was to take those squatters, and to 
liand them over to the law." 

** Werry true, sah. Nobody can't deny dat, masser Mord}^ 
but he nodder seize nor shot, now ! Sartain, it best to do one 
or t'odder with sich rascal. Well, I t'ink dat Tobit, as dey 
calls him, will remember Jaap Satanstoe long as he live. Dat a 
good t'ing, any way !" 

'* Good!" exclaimed the Onondago, with energy. 

I saw it was useless, then, to discuss abstract principles with 
men so purely practical as my two companions, and I left the 
house to reconnoitre, ere I returned to our hospital for the night. 
The negro followed me, and I questioned him as to the manner 
of the attack, and the direction of the retreat of the squatters, 
in order to ascertain what danger there might be during the 
hours of darkness. Jaap gave me to understand that the men 
of Thousandacres' family had retired by the way of the stream, 
profiting by the declivity to place themselves under cover as 
soon as possible. As respects the women and children, they 
must have got into the woods at some other point, and it was 
probable the whole had sought some place of retreat that would 
naturally have been previously appointed by those who knew 
that they lived in the constant danger of requiring one. Jaap 
was very certain we should see no more of the men, and in that 
he was perfectly right. No more was ever seen of any one of 
them all in that part of the country, though rumors reached 
us, in the course of time, from some of the more western coun- 
ties, that Tobit had been seen there, a cripple, as I have already 
stated, but maintaining his old character for lawlessness and 
disregard of the rights of others. 

I next returned to Frank Malbone, who still stood on post at 
no great distance from the door, through which we could both 
see the form and features of his beautiful and beloved sister. 



428 THE CIIAINBEARER. 

Dus sat by licr uncle's bed-side, wMle Prudence had stationed 
herself by that of her husband. Frank and I advanced near 
the door, and looked in upon the solemn and singular sight that 
room afforded. It was indeed a strange and sad spectacle, to 
see those two aged men, each with his thin locks whitened by 
seventy years, drawing near their ends, the victims of lawless 
violence ; for, while the death of Thousandacres was enveloped 
in a certain mystery, and might by some eyes be viewed as 
merited and legal, there could be no doubt that it was a direct 
consequence of the previous murder of Chainbearer. It is in 
this way that wrong extends and sometimes perpetuates its 
influence, proving the necessity of taking time by the forelock, 
and resorting to prevention in the earliest stages of the evil, 
instead of cure. 

There lay the two victims of the false principles that the phys- 
ical condition of the country, connected with its passive endu- 
rance of encroachments on the right, had gradually permitted to 
grow up among us. Squatting was a consequence of the thin- 
ness of the population and of the abundance of land, the two 
very circumstances that rendered it the less justifiable in a moral 
point of view ; but which, by rendering the one side careless of 
its rights, and the other proportionably encroaching, had grad- 
ually led, not only to this violation of law, but to the adoption 
of notions that are adverse to the supremacy of law in any case. 
It is this gradual undermining of just opinions that forms the 
imminent danger of our social system ; a spurious philanthropy 
on the subject of punishments, false notions on that of personal 
rights, and the substitution of numbers for principles, bidding 
fair to produce much the most important revolution that has 
ever yet taken place on the American continent. The lover of 
real liberty, under such circumstances, should never forget that 
the road to despotism lies along the borders of the slough of 
licentiousness, even when it escapes wallowing in its depths. 

When Malbone and myself drew back from gazing on the 
scene within the house, he related to me in detail all that was 
connected with his own proceedings. The reader knows that 



THE C II AINB E AREIl. 429 

it was by means of a meeting in the forest, between the Indian 
and the negro, that my friends first became acquainted with 
my arrest, and the probable danger in which I was placed. 
Chainbearer, Dus, and Jaap instantly repaired to the clearing 
of Thousandacres ; while Malbone hastened on to Eavensnest, 
in pursuit of legal aid, and of a force to render my rescue cer- 
tain. Meditating on all the facts of the case, and entertaining 
most probably an exaggerated notion of the malignant charac- 
ter of Thousandacres, by the time he reached the Nest my 
new friend was in a most feverish state of excitement. His 
first act was, to write a brief statement of the facts to my father, 
and to dispatch his letter by a special messenger, with orders 
to him to push on for Fishkill, all the family being there at the 
time, on a visit to the Kettletases ; proceeding by land or by 
water, as the wind might favor. I was startled at this informa- 
tion, foreseeing at once that it would bring not only the general 
himself, but my dear mother and Kate, with Tom Bayard quite 
likely in her train, post-haste to Eavensnest. It might even 
cause my excellent old grandmother to venture so far from 
home ; for my last letters had apprised me that they were all 
on the point of visiting my sister Anneke, which was the way 
Frank had learned where the family was to be found. 

As Malbone' s messenger had left the Nest early the preced- 
ing night, and the wind had been all day fresh at north, it came 
quite within the bounds of possibility that he might be at Fish- 
kill at the very moment I was listening to the history of his 
message. The distance was about a hundred and forty miles, 
and nearly one hundred of it could be made by water. Such 
a messenger would care but little for the accommodations of 
his craft ; and, on the supposition that he reached Albany that 
morning, and found a sloop ready to profit by the breeze, as 
would be likely to occur, it would be quite in rule to reach the 
landmg at Fishkill in the course of the evening, aided by the 
little gale that had been blowing. I knew General Littlepage 
too well, to doubt either his affection or his promptitude. 
Albany could be reached in a day by land, and Eavensnest in 



1:30 THE CIIAINBEAREll. 

another. I made my account, tlierefore, to see a part if not all 
of the family at the Nest, as soon as I should reach it myself; 
an event not likely to occur, however, for some little time, on 
account of the condition of Chainbearer. 

I shall not deny that this new state of things, with the ex- 
pectations connected with it, gave me sufficient food for reflec- 
tion. I could not and did not blame Frank Malbone for what 
he had done, since it was natural and proper. Notwithstand- 
ing, it would precipitate matters as regarded my relation to Dus 
a little faster than I could have wished. I desired time to 
sound my family on the important subject of my marriage — to 
let the three or four letters I had already written, and in which 
she had been mentioned in a marked manner, produce their 
effect ; and I counted largely on the support I was to receive 
through the friendship and representations of Miss Bayard. 1 
felt certain that deep disappointment on the subject of Pris. 
would be felt by the whole family ; and it was l \} wish not to 
introduce "Ursula to their acquaintance until time Lad a little 
lessened its feeling. But things must now take their course ; 
and my determination was settled to deal as sincerely and 
simply as possible with my parents on the subject. I knew 
their deep affection for me, and relied strongly on that natural 
support. 

1 had half an hour's conversation with Dus while walking in 
front of the hospital that night, Frank taking his sister's place 
by the side of Chainbearer' s bed. Then it was that I again 
spoke of my hopes, and explained the probabilities of our see- 
ing all of my immediate family so shortly at Ravensnest. My 
arm was round the waist of the dear girl as I communicated 
these facts ; and I felt her tremble, as if she dreaded the trial 
she was to undergo. 

" This is very sudden and unexpected, Mordaunt," Dus re- 
marked, after she had had a little time to recover her recollec- 
tion ; " and I have so much reason to fear the judgment of your 
respectable parents — of your charming sister, of whom I have 
heard so often through Priscilla Bayard — and indeed of all who 



THECHAINBEARER. 431 

have lived, as ihey have done, amid the elegancies of a refined 
state of society ; I, Dus Malbone — a chainbearer's niece, and a 
chainbearer myself !" 

" You have never borne any chain, love, that is as lasting or 
as strong as that which you have entwined around my heart, 
and which will forever bind me to you, let the rest of the world 
regard us both as it may. But you can have nothing to fear 
from any, and least of all from my friends. My father is not 
worldly-minded ; and as for my dear, dear mother, Anneko 
Mordaunt, as the general even now often aftectionately calls her, 
as if the name itself reminded him of the days of her maiden 
loveliness and pride — as for that beloved mother, Ursula, I do 
firmly believe that, when she comes to know you, she will even 
prefer you to her son." 

"That is a picture of your blinded partiality, Mordaunt," 
answered the gratified girl, for gratified I could see she was, 
'* and must not be too fondly relied on. But this is no time 
to talk of our own future happiness, when the eternal happiness 
or misery of those two aged men is suspended, as it might be, 
by a thread. I have read prayers once already with my dear 
uncle ; and that strange woman, in whom there is so much of 
her sex mingled with a species of ferocity like that of a she-bear, 
has muttered a hope that her own * dying man,' as she calls 
him, is not to be forgotten. I have promised he should not be, 
and it is time to attend to that duty next." 

What a scene followed ! Dus placed the light on a chest 
near the bed of Thousandacres, and, with the prayer-book in 
her hand, she knelt beside it. Prudence stationed herself in such 
a posture that her head was buried in one of her own garments, 
that was suspended from a peg ; and there she stood, while the 
melodious voice of Ursula Malbone poured out the petitions 
contained in the offices for the dying, in humble but fervent 
piety. I say stood, for neither Prudence nor Lowiny knelt. 
The captious temper of self-righteousness which had led their 
ancestors to reject kneeling at prayers as the act of formalists, 
had descended to them ; and there they stood, praying doubt- 



432 THE C H A I N B E A K E R . 

less ill tlicir licarts, but ungracious formalists themselves in tlieir 
zeal against forms. Frank and I knelt in tlie door-way ; and I 
can truly affirm that never did prayers sound so sweetly in my 
cars, as those which then issued from the lips of Ursula Malbone. 



THE CHAINBEAREU. 43!? 



CnAPTER XXVIII. 

" Thence cum wo to the horrour and the hel, 
The large great kyngdomes, and the dreadful raygi»e 

Of Pluto in his trone where he dyd dwell. 
The wyde waste places, and the hugye playne : 
The waylings, shrykes, and sundry sortes of payne, 
The syghes, and sobbes, and diep and deadly groane. 
Earth, ayer, and all resounding playnt and moane." 

Sackville.' 

In this manlier did that rouemorable night wear away. Tlie 
two wounded men slumbered much of the time ; nor did their 
wants extend beyond occasional draughts of water, to cool 
their feverish mouths, or the wetting of lips. I prevailed on 
Dus to lie down on the bed of Lowiny, and try to get a little 
rest ; and I had the pleasure to hear her say that she had slept 
sweetly for two or three hours, after the turn of the night. 
Frank and I caught naps, also, after the fashion of soldiers, and 
Lowiny slept in her chair, or leaning on her father's bed. As 
for Prudence, I do not think her watchfulness was lessened for 
a single instant. There she sat the livelong night ; silent, tear- 
less, moody, and heart-stricken by the great and sudden calam- 
ity that had befallen her race, but vigilant and attentive to the 
least movement in the huge frame of her wounded partner. No 
complaint escaped her ; scarcely once did she turn to look at 
what was going on around her, nor in any manner did she heed 
aught but her husband. To him she seemed to be unerringly 
true ; and whatever she may, and must have thought of his 
natural sternness, and occasional fits of severity toward herself, 
all now seemed to be forgotten. 

At length light returned, after hours of darkness that seemed 
to me to be protracted to an unusual length. Then it was, 
when Jaap and the Indian were ready to take our places on the 
19 



4Si THE CIIAINBEAGER. 

watcli, that Frank and I went to one of the huts and lay down 
for two or three hours ; and that was the time when Dus got 
her sweetest and most refreshing sleep. Lowiny prepared our 
morning's meal for us ; which we three, that is, Dus, Frank 
and myself, took together in the best way w^e could, in the 
dwelling of Tobit. As for 'Squire Newcome, he left the clear- 
ing in the course of the night, or very early in the morning, 
doubtless exceedingly uneasy in his conscience, but still uncer- 
tain whether his connection with the squatters was or was not 
known to me ; the excuse for this movement being the prob- 
able necessity of summoning a jury ; Mr. Jason Newcome fill- 
ing in his own person, or by deputy, the several offices and 
functions of justice of the peace, one of the coroners of the 
county, supervisor of the township of Ravensnest, merchant, 
shopkeeper, miller, lumber-dealer, husbandman and innkeeper ; 
to say nothing of the fact that he wrote all the wills of the 
neighborhood ; was a standing arbitrator when disputes were 
"left out to men;" was a leading politician, a patriot by 
trade, and a remarkable and steady advocate of the rights of 
the people, even to minutia?. Those who know mankind will 
not be surprised, after this enumeration of his pursuits and 
professions, to hear it added that he was a remarkable rogue in 
the bargain. 

There are two things I have lived long enough to receive as 
truths established by my own experience, and they are these ; 
I never knew a man who made large professions of a love for 
the people, and of his wish to serve them on all occasions, 
whose aim was not to deceive them to his own advantage ; 
and the other is, that I never knew a man who was compelled 
to come mucb in contact with the people, and who at the same 
time was personally popular, who had any thing in him, at the 
bottom. But it is time to quit Jason Newcome and his defects 
of character, in order to attend to the interesting scene that 
awaited us in the dwelling of Thousandacres, and to which we 
were now summoned by Jaap. 

As the day advanced, both the chainbearer and the squatter 



THE CII A IN BE ARE R. 435 

became aroused from tlie languor tliat had succeeded the receiv- 
ing of their respective hurts, and more or less alive to what was 
passing around them. Life was ebbing fast in both, yet each 
seemed, just at that moment, to turn his thoughts backward on 
the world, in order, as it might be, to take a last look at those 
scenes in which he had now been an actor for the long period 
of threescore-and-ten years. 

"Uncle Chainbearer is much revived, just now," said Dus, 
meeting Frank and myself at the door, ** and he has asked for 
you both ; more especially for Mordaunt, whose name he has 
mentioned three several times within the last five minutes. 
* Send for Mordaunt, my child,' he has said to me, *for I wish 
to speak with him before I quit you.' I am fearful he has in- 
svard admonitions of his approaching end." 

** That is possible, dearest Ursula; for men can hardly lose 
their hold of life without being aware of the approaches of 
death. I will go at once to his bedside, that he may know I 
am here. It is best to let his own feelings decide whether he is 
able or not to converse." 

The sound of Chainbearer's voice, speaking in a low but dis- 
tinct tone, caught our ears as we approached him, and we all 
stopped to listen. 

*' I say, Tousantacres," repeated Andries, on a key a little 
louder than before, " if you hear me, olt man, ant can answer, 
I wish you to let me know it. You ant I pe apout to start on 
a fery long journey, ant it ist unreasonaple, as well as wicket, 
to set out wit' pad feelin's at t'e heart. If you hat hat a niece, 
now, like Dus t'ere, to tell you t'ese matters, olt Aaron, it might 
pe petter for your soul in t'e worlt into which we are poth apout 
to enter." 

*' He knows it — I'm sure he knows it, and feels it, too," mut- 
tered Prudence, rocking her body as before. "lie has had 
pious forefathers, and cannot have fallen so far aAvay from grace, 
as to forget death and etarnity." 

" Look you, Prutence, Aaron nefer coult fall away from what 
he ncfcr wast fastenet to. As for pious forefathers, t'ey may do 



43G THE CII AINBE ARER. 

to talk apout in Fourt' of July orations, put t'ey are of no great 
account in cleansin' a man from Lis sins. I s'pose t'em pious 
forefat'ers of whicli you speak was t'e people t'at first steppet 
on t'e rock town at Plymout' ; put, let me telt you, Prutence, 
hat t'ere peen twice as many of t'em, and hat t'ey all peen twice 
as goot as you poast of t'eir hafin' peen, it wilt do no goot to 
your man, unless he wilt repent, and pe sorry for all t'e unlaw- 
ful ant wicket t'ings he hast tone in t'is worlt, and his treat- 
ment of pountaries in jin'ral, ant of ot'er men's lants in par- 
tic' lar. Pious ancestors may pe pleasant to haf, put goot pe- 
havior ist far petter as t'e last hour approaches." 

*' Answer him, Aaron," the wife rejoined — " answer him, my 
man, in order that we may all on us know the frame of mind 
in which you take your departure. Chainbearer is a kind- 
hearted man at the bottom, and has never wilfully done us any 
harm." 

For the first time since Andries received his wound, I now 
heard the voice of Thousandacres. Previously to that moment, 
the squatter, whether hurt or not, had sat in moody silence, 
and I had supposed after he was wounded that he was unable 
to use his tongue. To my surprise, however, he now spoke 
with a depth and strength of voice that at first misled me, by 
inducing me to think that the injury he had received could not 
be fatal. 

" If there wasn't no chainbearers," growled Thousandacres, 
" There wouldn't be no lines, or metes and bounds, as they call 
'em ; and where there's no metes and bounds, there can be 
no right but possession. If 'twasn't for your writin' titles, I 
shouldn't be lyin' here, breathin' my last." 

" Forgive it all, my man ; forgive it all, as behooves a good 
Christian," Prudence returned, to this characteristic glance at 
the past, in which the squatter had so clearly overlooked all his 
own delinquencies, and was anxious to impute consequences 
altogether to others. * ' It is the law of God to forgive your 
enemies, Aaron, and I want you to forgive Chainbearer, and 
not go to the world of spirits with gall in your heart." 



THE CHAINBEARER. 437 

" 'Twoiilt pe much petter, Prutence, if T'ousantacrcs woult 
pray to Got to forgif liimself," put in Chainbearer. " I am 
feiy willin', ant happy to haf t'e forgifness of efery man, ant it 
1st not unlikely t'at I may haf tone somet'ing, or sait somet'ing 
t'at liast peen hart to t'e feelin's of your huspant ; for we aro 
rough, and plain-spealdn', and plain-actin' enough, in t'e woots; 
so I'm willin' to haf even T'ousantacres' forgifness, I say, and 
wilt accept it wit' pleasure if he wilt offer it, ant take mine in 
exchanofe." 

A deep groan struggled out of the broad, cavern-like chest of 
the squatter. I took it as an admission that he was the mur- 
derer of Andries. 

*' Yes," resumed Chainbearer — "Dus hast mate me see " 

" Uncle !" exclaimed Ursula, who was intently listening, and 
who now spoke because unable to restrain the impulse. 

" Yes, yes, gal, it hast peen all your own toin's. Pefore ast 
you come pack from school, ast we come into t'e woots, all 
alone like, you haf nefer forgotten to teach an olt, forgetful man 
his tuty " 

" Oh ! uncle Chainbearer, it is not I, but God in his mercy 
who has enlightened your understanding and touched your 
heart." 

" Yes, tarlin' ; yes Dus, my tear, I comprehent t'at too ; but 
Got in his mercy sent an angel to pe his minister on 'art' wit' a 
poor ignorant Tutchman, who hast not t'e I'arnin' ant t'e grace 
he might ant ought to have hat, wit'out your ait, and so hast 
t'e happy change come apout. No — no — T'ousantacres, I wilt 
not tespise even your forgifness, little as you may haf to forgif; 
for it hghtens a man's heart of heafy loats, when his time is 
short, to know he leafs no enemies pehind him. T'ey say it ist 
pest tc haf t'e goot wishes of a tog, ant how much petter ist it to 
haf t'e goot wishes of one who hast a soul t'at only wants puri- 
fyin', to twell in t'e Almighty's presence t'roughout eternity !" 

*' I hope and believe," again growled Thousandacres, " that 
in the world we're goin' to, there'll be no law, and no attor- 
neys." 



438 THE CII AINBE ARE R. 

** 111 t'at, t'en, Aaron, you pc greatly rQistaten. T'at lant 
is all law, aut justice, ant right ; t'ougli. Got forgif me if I do 
any man an injury ; put to pe frank wit' you, as pecomes two 
mortals so near t'eir ents, I do not pelieve, myself, t'at t'ere 
wilt pe a great many attorneys to trouple t'em t'at are receivet 
into t'e courts of t'e Almighty, himself. T'eir practices on 
'arth does not suit t'em for practice in heafen." 

"If you'd always held them rational notions, Chainbearer, 
no harm might have come to you, and my life and your'n been 
spared. But this is a state of being in which short-sighted- 
ftess prevails ag'in the best calkerlations. I never felt more 
sure of gittin' lumber to market than I felt three days ago, of 
gittin' this that's in the creek, safe to Albany; and now, you 
see how it is ! the b'ys are disparsed, and may never see this 
spot ag'in ; the gals are in the woods, runnin' with the deer of 
the forest ; the lumber has fallen into the hands of the law ; 
and that, too, by the aid of a man that was bound in honesty to 
protect nie, and I'm dyin' here !" 

" Think no more of the lumber, my man, think no more 
of the lumber," said Prudence, earnestly; *'time is desp'rate 
short at the best, and yours is shorter than common, even for 
a man of seventy, while etarnity has no ecnd. Forgit the 
boards, and forgit the b'ys, and forgit the gals, forgit 'arth and 
all it holds !— " 

** You wouldn't have me forgit you. Prudence," interrupted 
Thousandacres, " that's been my wife, now, forty long years, 
and whom I tuck when she was young and comely, and that's 
borne me so many children, and has always been a faithful and 
hard-working woman — you wouldn't have me forget you!'''' 

This singular appeal, coming as it did from such a being, and 
almost in his agony, sounded strangely and solemnly, amid the 
wild and semi-savage appliances of a scene I can never forget. 
The effect on Ursula was still more apparent ; she left the bed- 
side of her uncle, and with strong womanly sympathy mani- 
fested in her countenance, approached that of this aged couple, 
now about to be separated for a short time, at least, where she 



THE C H A I N B E A R E R . 439 

Btood gazing wistfully at tlie very man wlio was probably tliat 
uncle's murderer, as if slie could gladly administer to Ms moral 
ailings. Even Chainbearer attempted to raise liis bead, and 
looked witb interest toward the other group. No one spoke, 
however, for all felt that the solemn recollections and forebod- 
ings of a pair so situated, were too sacred for interruption. The 
discoui'se went on, without any hiatus, between them. 

" Not I, not I, Aaron, my man," answered Prudence, with 
strong emotions struggling in her voice ; there can be no law, 
or call for that. We are one flesh, and what God has j'ined, 
God will not keep asunder long. I cannot tarry long behind 
you, my man, and when we meet together ag'in, I hope 'twill 
be where no boards, or trees or acres, can ever make more 
trouble for us !^ 

'* I've been hardly treated about that lumber, a'ter all," mut- 
tered the squatter, Avho was now apparently more aroused to 
consciousness than he had been, and who could not but keep 
harping on what had been the one great business of his life, 
even as that life was crumbling beneath his feet — " hardly 
dealt by, do I consider myself, about that lumber. Prudence. 
Make the most of the Littlepage rights, it was only trees that 
they could any way claim, in reason ; while the b'ys and I, as 
you well know, have convarted them trees into as pretty and 
noble a lot of han'some boards and planks, as man ever rafted 
to market !" 

*' It's convarsion of another natur' that you want now, 
Aaron, my man ; another sort of convarsion is the thing need- 
ful. We must all be convarted once in our lives ; at least all 
such as be the children of Puritan parents and a godly ances- 
try : and it must be owned, takin' into account our years, and 
the importance of example in sich a family as our'n, that you 
and I have put it off long enough. Gome it must, or suthin' 
worse ; and time and etarnity in your case, Aaron, is pretty 
much the same thing." 

" I should die easier in mind. Prudence, if Chainbearer 
would only admit that the man who chops and hauls, and saws 



140 THE CHAINBEARER. 

and rafts a tree, docs get some sort of a riglit, natural or legal, 
to the lumber." 

"I'm soriy, T'oiisantacres," put in Andries, " t'at you feel 
any such atmission from me necessary to you at t'is awful mo- 
ment, since I nefcr can make it ast an honest man. You hat 
petter listen to your wife, and get confarted if you can, ant as 
soon ast you can. You ant I haf put a few hours to lif ; I am 
an olt soltier, T'ousantacres, ant haf seen more fan free f ou- 
sant men shot town in my own ranks, to say nuf in' of f e ranks 
of fe enemy ; ant wit' so much experience a man comes to 
know a little apout wounts ant f eir tarminations. I gif it ast 
my chugment, ferefore, fat neit'er of us can haf f e smallest 
hope to lif t' rough t'e next night. So get fat confarsion as 
hastily ant ast well ast 5^ou can, for fere ist little time to lose, 
ant you a squatter ! T^is ist f e moment of all of ers, T'ousant- 
acres, to proofe f e true falue of professions, and trates, ant 
callin's, as well ast of f e manner in which f eir tuties haf .peen 
fulfillet. It may pe more honoraple ant more profitaple to pe a 
calculating surfeyor, ant to unterstant arifmetic, and to po 
talkct of in f e "svorlt for work tone on a large scale ; put efen 
his excellency himself, when he comes to t'e last moments, may 
pe glat fat f e temptations of such I'arnin', ant his pein' so 
f oroughly an honest man, toes not make him enfy f e state of 
a poor chainpearer ; who, if he titn't know much, ant coultn't 
do much, at least m.easuret f e lant wit' fitelity, and tid his work 
ast well ast he knew how. Yes, yes, olt Aaron ; get confartet, 
I tell you ; ant shoult Prutence not l^now enough of religion 
ant her piple, ant of prayin' to Got to haf marcy on your soul, 
fere ist Dus Malpone, my niece, who understants, ant what ist 
fiir petter, vfho feels f ese matters, quite as well ast most tomi- 
nies, ant petter fan some lazy ant selfish ones t'at I know, who 
treat f eir flocks as if f e Lort meant fey wast to pe shearet 
only, ant who wast too lazy to do much more fan to keep 
cryin' out — not in f e worts of t'e inspiret writer — ' Watchman, 
what of f e night ? — watchman, Avhat of f e night ?' — put, 'My 
pclovet, ant most Christian, ant gotly-mintet people, pay, pay, 



THE CIIAINBEARER. 441 

pay !' Yes, t'ere ist too much of sucli afarice ant selfisliness iu 
t'c worlt, ant it toes liarm to t'e cause of t'e Safiour ; put trut' 
is so clear ant peautiful an opject, my poor Aaron, t'at efen 
lies, ant fice, ant all manner of wicketnesses cannot long sully 
it. Take my atvice, ant talk to Dus; ant t'ough you wilt 
touptless continue to grow worse in poty, you wilt grow petter 
in spirit." 

Tliousandacres turned his grim visage round, and gazed in- 
tently and wistfully toward Ursula. I saw the struggle that 
was going on within, through the clear mirror of the sweet, 
ingenuous ftice of my beloved, and I saw the propriety of retir- 
ing. Frank Malbone understood my look, and we left the 
house together, closing the door behind us. 

Two, to me, long and anxious hours succeeded, during most 
of which time my companion and myself walked about the 
clearing, questioning the men Avho composed the posse, and 
hearing their reports. These men were in earnest in what they 
were doing ; for a respect for law is a distinguishing trait in the 
American character, and perhaps more so in New England, 
whence most of these people came, than in any other part of 
the country ; the rascality of 'Squire Newcome to the contrary, 
notwithstanding. Some observers pretend that this respect for 
law is gradually decreasing among us, and that in its place is 
sensibly growing up a disposition to substitute the opinions, 
wishes and interests of local majorities, making the country 
subject to men instead of princijiles. The last are eternal and 
immutable; and coming of God, men, however unanimous in 
sentiment, have no more right to attempt to change them, than 
to blaspheme His holy name. All that the most exalted and 
largest political liberty can ever beneficially effect is to apply 
these principles to the good of the human race, in the manage- 
ment of their daily affairs ; but when they attempt to substitute 
for these pure and just rules of right, laws conceived in selfish- 
ness and executed by the power of numbers, they merely 
exhibit tyranny in its popular form, instead of in its old aspect 
of kingly or aristocratic abuses. It is a fatal mistake to fancy 



442 THE CH AINBE ARER. 

tliat freedom is gained by the mere achievement of a right in 
the people to govern, unless the manner in which that right is 
to be both understood and practised, is closely incorporated 
with all the popular notions of what has beeii obtained. That 
right to govern means no more, than the right of the people to 
avail themselves of the power thus acquired, to apply the great 
principles of justice to their own benefit, and from the posses- 
sion of Avhich they had hitherto been excluded. It confers no 
power to do that which is inherently wrong, under any pretence 
whatever ; nor would any thing have been gained, had America, 
as soon as she relieved herself from a sway that diverted so 
many of her energies to the increase of the wealth and influence 
of a distant people, gone to work to frame a new polity which 
should inflict similar wrongs within her own bosom. 

My old acquaintance, the hearty Rhode Islander, was one of 
the posse ; and I had a short conversation with him, while thus 
kept out of the house, which may serve to let the reader some- 
what into the secret of the state of things at the clearing. We 
met near the mill, when my acquaintance, whose name was 
Hosmer, commenced as follows : 

"A good day to you, major, and a hearty welcome to the 
open air !" cried the sturdy yeoman, frankly but respectfully, 
offering his hand. *' You fell into a pit here, or into a den 
among thieves ; and it's downright providential you e'er saw 
and breathed the clear air ag'in ! Wa-a-1, I've been trailin' a 
little this morniu', along with the Injin ; and no hound has a 
more sartain scent than he has. We went into the hollow along 
the creek ; and a desp'rate sight of boards them varmints have 
got into the water, I can tell you ! If the lot's worth forty 
pounds York, it must be worth every shilling of five hun- 
dred. They'd 'a' made their fortin's, every blackguard among 
'em. I don't know but I'd fit myself to save so many boards, 
and sich beautiful boards, whether wrongfully or rightfully 
lumbered !" 

Here the hearty old fellow stopped to laugh, which he did 
exactly in the full-mouthed, contented way in which he spoke 



THE CIIAINBEARER. 443 

and did every thing else. I profited by tlic occasion to put in 
a word in reply. 

"You are too honest a man, major, to think of ever makino' 
your boards out of another man's trees," I answered. *' These 
people have lived by dishonest practices all their lives, and any 
one can see what it has come to." 

''Yes, I hope I am, 'Squire Littlepage — I do hope I am. 
Hard work and I an't nohow afeard of each other ; and so long 
as a man can work, and will work, Satan don't get a full grip 
on him. But, as I was sayin', the Trackless struck the trail 
down the creek, though it was along a somewhat beaten path ; 
but the Injin would make no more of findin' it in a highway, 
than you and I would of findin' our places in the Bible on 
Sabba'day, where we had left off the Sabba'day that was gone. 
I always mark mine with a string the old woman braided for me 
on purpose, and a right-down good method it is; for, while 
you're s'archin' for your specs with one hand, nothin' is easier 
than to open the Bible with t'other. Them's handy things to 
have, major ; and, when you marry some great lady down at 
York, sich a one as your own mother was, fbr I know'd her and 
honored her, as we all did hereaway — but when you get married, 
ask your wife to braid a string for you, to find the place in the 
Bible with, and all will go right, take an old man's word for it." 

" I thank you, friend, and will remember the advice, even 
though I might happen to marry a lady in this part of the world, 
and not down in York." 

" This part of the world? No, we've got nobody our way, 
that's good enough for you. Let mo see ; Newcome has a 
da'ghter that's old enough, but she's desp'rate humbly (Anglice, 
homely — the people of New England reserve * ugly' for moral 
qualities) and wouldn't suit, no how. I don't think the Little- 
pages would overmuch like being warp and fillin' with the New- 
comes." 

*' No ! My father was an old friend — or, an old acquaintance 
at least, of Mr. Newcome's, and must know and appreciate his 
merits." 



444 THE CHAINBEARER. 

"Yes — jcs — I'll Av arrant ye tlic gin'ral knows liim. AVa-a-1 ! 
Human natur' is liuman natur' ; and I do s'pose, if truth must 
be spoken, none on us be half as good as we ought to be. We 
read about faithful stewards in the good book, and about on- 
faithful ones too, squire" — here the old yeoman stopped to 
indulge in one of his hearty laughs, rendering it manifest he felt 
the full application of his words. " Wa-a-1, all must allow the 
Bible's a good book, I never open it, without I'amin' suthin', 
and what I I'ani, I strive not to forgit. But there's a messen- 
ger for you, major, from Thousandacres' hut, and I fancy it will 
turn out that he or Chainbearer is drawing near his eend." 

Lowiny was coming to summon us to the house, sure enough, 
and I took my leave of my brother major for the moment. It 
was plain to me that this honest-minded yeoman, a good speci- 
men of his class, saw through Newcome and his tricks, and w^as 
not unwilling to advert to them. Nevertheless, this man had a 
fault, and one very characteristic of his **orc?er." He could 
not speak directly^ but would hint round a subject, instead of 
coming out at once, and telling what he had to say ; beating 
the bush to start his game, when he might have put it up at 
once, by going in at it directly. Before we parted, he gave me 
to understand that &usquesus and my fellow, Jaap, had gone on 
in pursuit of the retreating squatters, intending to follow their 
trail several miles, in order to make sure that Tobit and his 
gang were not hanging around the clearing to watch their 
property, ready to strike a blow when it might be least ex- 
pected. 

Dus met me at the door of the cabin, tearful and sad, but 
with such a holy calm reigning in her generally brilliant coun- 
tenance, as denoted the nature of the solemn business in which 
she had just been engaged. She extended both hands to meet 
mine, and whispered, "Uncle Chainbearer is anxious to speak 
to us — on the subject of our engagement, I think it is." A 
tremor passed through the frame of Ursula, but she made an 
effort, smiled sadly, and continued : *' Hear him patiently, dear 
Mordaunt, and remember that he is my father, in one sense, 



THE C 11 A 1 N B E A U E II . "l i^ 



and as fully entitled to my obedience and respect as if I were 
really liis daughter." 

As I entered tlie room, I could see tliat Dus Lad been at 
prayer. Prudence looked comforted, but Thousandacres liim 
self had a wild and uncertain expression of countenance, as if 
doubts had begun to beset him, at the very moment when they 
must have been the most tormenting. I observed that his 
anxious eye followed the form of Dus, and that he gazed on 
her as one would be apt to regard the being who had just been 
the instrument of awakening within him the consciousness of 
his critical state. But my attention was soon drawn to the 

other bed. 

''Come near me, Mortaunt, lat; ant come hit'er, Dus, my 
tearest ta'ghter ant niece. I haf a few worts of importance to 
say to you pefore I go, ant if t'ey pe not sait now, t'ey nefer 
may pe sait at all. It's always pest to ' take time py t'e fore- 
lock,' t'ey say ; ant surely I cannot pe callet in haste to speak, 
when not only one foot, put pot' feet and half my poty in t'e 
pargain, may well pe sait to pe in t'e grafe. Now listen to an 
olt man's atficc, ant do not stop my worts until all haf peen 
spoken, for I grow weak fast, ant haf not strength enough to 
t'row away any of it in argument." 

" ISIortaunt hast sait ast much, in my hearin' ast to atmit t'at 
he lofes ant atmires my gal, ant t'at he wishes, ant hopes, ant 
expects to make her his wife. On t'e ot'er hant, "Ursula, or 
Dus, my niece, confesses ant acknowledges t'at she lofes, ant 
esteems, ant hast a strong regart for Mortaunt, ant ist willin' to 
pecorae his wife. All t'is is nat'ral, ant t'ere wast a time when 
it woult haf made me ast happy ast t'e tay ist long to hear as 
much sait py t'e one or t'e ot'er of t'e parties. You know, my 
chiltren, t'at my affection for you is equal, ant t'at I consiter 
you, in all respects put t'at of worltly contition, to pe as well 
Buitet to pecome man ant wife ast any young couple in America. 
Put tuty is tuty, ant it must pe tischarget. General Littlepage 
wast my olt colonel ; ant an honest ant an honoraple man him- 
self, he hast efery right to expect t'at efery one of his former 



446 THE CIIAINBEARER. 

captains, in partic'lar, woult do unto him as t'ey woult liaf him 
do unto t'em. Now, t'ough heafen ist heaven, t'is worlt must 
pc regartet as t'is worlt, ant t'e rules for its gofernment are to po 
respectet in t'eir place. T'e Malpones pe a respectaple family, 
I know ; ant t'ough Dus's own fat'er wast a little wilt, ant t' ought- 
less, ant extrafagant — " 

" Uncle Chainbearer !" 

"True, gal, true; he wast your fat'er, ant t'e chilt shoult 
respect its parent. I atmit t'at, ant wilt say no more ^ fan ist 
apsolutely necessary ; pesites, if Malpone hat his pat qualities, 
he hat his goot. A hantsomer man coult not be fount, far ant 
near, ast my poor sister felt, I dares to say ; ant he wast prave 
as a pull-dog, ant generous, ant goot-naturet, ant many persons 
was quite captivatet by all t'ese showy atfantages, ant t'ought 
him petter ast he really wast. Yes, yes, Dus, my chilt, he hat 
his goot qualities, as well ast his pat. Put, t'e Malpones pe 
gentlemen, as ist seen py Frank, Dus's prother, ant py ot'er 
mempers of t'e family. T'en my mot'er's family, py which I 
am relatct to Dus, wast very goot — even petter t'an t'e Coeje- 
mans — ant t'e gal is a gentlewoman py pirt'. No one can deny 
t'at ; put ploot won't do efery t'ing. Chiltren must pe fet, and 
clot'et ; ant money ist necessary, a'ter all, for t'e harmony ant 
comfort of families. I know Matam Littlepage, in partic'lar. 
She ist a da'ter of olt Harman Mortaunt, who wast a grant gen- 
tleman in t'e lant, ant t'e owner of Ravensnest, ast well ast of 
ot'er estates, ant who kept t'e highest company in t'e profince. 
Now Matam Littlepage, who hast peen t'us born, ant etucatet, 
ant associatet, may not like t'e itee of hafin Dus Malpone, a 
chainpearer's niece, ant a gal t'at hast peen chainpearer herself, 
for which I honor ant lofe her so much t'e more, Mortaunt, lat ; 
put for which an ill-chutgin' worlt wilt despise her — " 

'' My mother — my noble-hearted, right-judging and right- 
feeling mother — never!" I exclaimed, in a burst of feeling I 
found it impossible to control. 

My words, manner and earnestness produced a profound im- 
pression on my auditors. A. gleam of pained delight shot into 



THE CIIAINBEARER. 447 

and out of the countenance of Ursula, like tlie passage of the 
electric spark. Chainbearer gazed on me intently, and it was 
easy to trace, in the expression of his face, the deep interest he 
felt in my words, and the importance he attached to them. As 
for Frank Malbone, he fairly turned away to conceal the tears 
that forced themselves from his eyes. 

"If I coult t'ink ast much — if I coult hope ast much, Mor- 
taunt," resumed Chainbearer, " it woult pe a plesset relief to 
my partin' spirit, for I know General Littlepage well enough to 
pe sartain t'at he ist a just ant right-mintet man, ant t'at, in t'e 
long run, he woult see matters ast he ought to see t'em. Wit' 
Matam Littlepage I fearet it was tifferent ; for I haf always 
hearet t'at t'e Mortaunts was tifferent people, ant felt ast toppin' 
people commonly do feel. T'is makes some change in my 
itees, ant some change in my plans. Howsefer, my young 
frients, I haf now to ask of you each a promise — a solemn 
promise mate to a tyin' man — ant it ist t'is — " 

"First hear me, Chainbearer," I interposed eagerly, "before 
you involve Ursula heedlessly, and I had almost said cruelly, in 
any incautious promise, that may make both our lives miserable 
hereafter. You yourself first invited, tempted, courted me to 
love her ; and now, when I know and confess her worth, you 
throw ice on my flame, and command me to do that of which 
it is too late to think." 

"I o^vn it, I own it, lat, ant hope t'e Lort, in his great 
marcy, wilt forgif ant parton t'e great mistake I mate. We 
haf talket of t'is pefore, Mortaunt, ant you may rememper I 
tolt you it was Dus herself who first mate me see t'e trut' in 
t'e matter, ant how much petter ant more pecomin' it wast in 
me to holt you pack, t'an to encourage ant leat you on. 
How comes it, my tear gal, t'at you haf forgot all t'is, ant now 
seem to wish me to do t'e fery t'ing you atviset me not to do ?'* 

Ursula's face became pale as death ; then it flashed to the 
brightness of a summer sunset, and she sank on her knees, con- 
cealing her countenance in the coarse quilt of the bed, as her 
truthful and ingenuous nature poured out her answer. 



448 THE CIIAINBEARER. 

''Uncle Cliainbearer," slie said, " when we first talked on this 
subject I had never seen Mordaunt." 

I knelt at the side of Ursula, folded her to my bosom, and 
endeavored to express the profound sentiment of gratitude that 
I felt at hearing this ingenuous explanation, by such caresses as 
nature and feeling dictated. Dus, however, gently extricated 
herself from my arms, and rising, we both stood waiting the 
effect of what had just been seen and heard on Chainbearer. 

"I see t'at natur' is stronger t'an reason, ant opinion, ant 
cistom," the old man resumed, after a long, meditative pause — 
" I haf put little time to spent in t'is matter, howsefer, my chil- 
tren, ant must pring it to a close. Promise me, pot' of you, 
t'at you will nefer marry wit'out t'e free consent of General 
Littlepage, ant t'at of olt Matam Littlepage, ant young Matam 
Littlepage, each or all pein' lifin'." 

"I do promise you, uncle Chainbearer," said Dus, with a 
promptitude that I could hardly pardon — " I do promise you, 
and will keep my promise, as I love you and fear and honor 
my Maker. 'Twould be misery to me to enter a family that 
was not willing to receive me — " 

"Ursula! — dearest — dearest Ursula — do you reflect! Am 
T, then, nothing in your eyes?" 

" It would also be misery to live without you, Mordaunt — 
but in one case I should be supported by a sense of having dis- 
charged my duty ; while in the other, all that went wrong would 
appear a punishment for my own errors." 

I would not promise ; for, to own the truth, while I never 
distrusted my father or mother for a single instant, I did dis- 
trust my dear and venerable grandmother. I knew that she 
had not only set her heart, on my marrying Priscilla Bayard ; 
but that she had a passion for making matches in her own fam- 
ily ; and I feared that she might have some of the tenacity of 
old age in maintaining her opinions. Dus endeavored to pre- 
vail on me to promise ; but I evaded the pledge ; and all solici- 
tations were abandoned in consequence of a remark that was 
soon after made by Chainbearer. 



THE CIIAINBEARER. 449 

*'Nefer mint — ncfer mint, darlint; your promise is enougli. 
So long as you pe true, what matters it w'et'er Mortaunt is 
lieatstrong or not ? Ant now, children, ast I wish to talk no 
more of t'e matters of t'is worlt, put to gif all my nictitations 
ant language to t'e t'ings of Got, I wilt utter my partin' worts 
to you. W'et'er you marry or not, I pray Almighty Got to 
gif you his pest plessin's in t'is life, ant in t'at which ist to come. 
Lif in sich a way, my tear chiltren, as to pe aple to meet t'is 
awful moment, in which you see me placed, wit' hope ant joy, 
so t'at we may all meet hereafter in t'e courts of Heafcn. 
Amen." 

A short, solemn pause succeeded this benediction, when it 
was intcn-upted by a fearful groan, that struggled out of the 
broad chest of Thousandacres. All eyes were turned on the 
other bed, which presented a most impressive contrast to the 
calm scene that surrounded the parting soul of him about whom 
we had been gathered. I alone advanced to the assistance of 
Prudence, who, woman-like, clung to her husband to the last ; 
"bone of his bone, and flesh of his flesh." I must own, how- 
ever, that horror paralyzed my limbs ; and that when I got as 
far as the foot of the squatter's bed, I stood riveted to the place 
like a rooted tree. 

Thousandacres had been raised, by means of quilts, until half 
his body lay almost in a sitting position ; a change he had 
ordered during the previous scene. His eyes were open ; ghastly, 
wandering, hopeless. As the lips contracted with the convul- 
sive twitchings of death, they gave to his grim visage a species 
of sardonic grin that rendered it doubly terrific. At this moment 
a sullen calm came over the countenance, and all was still. I 
knew that the last breath remained to be drawn, and waited 
for it as the charmed bird gazes at the basilisk-eye of the snake. 
It came, drawing aside the lips so as to show every tooth, and 
not one was missing in that iron frame ; when, finding the sight 
too frightful for even my nerves, I veiled my eyes. When my 
hand was removed, I caught one glimpse of that dark tenement 
in which the spirit of the murderer and squatter had so long 



450 



THE CIIAINBEARER. 



dwelt, Prudence being in tlie act of closing tLe glary, bat stili 
fiery eyes. I never before had looked upon so revolting a 
corpse ; and never wisli to see its equal again. 



TUE CnAINBKARER. 451 



CHAPTER XXIX. 

" Mild as a babe reclines himself to rest, 
And smiling sleeps upon the mother's breast — 
Tranquil, and "with a patriarch's hope, he gave 
His soul to heaven, his body to the grave." 

IIaete. 

I SAW that neither Chainbearer nor Dus looked at the revolting 
object presented in the corpse of Thousandacres, after that selfish 
and self-willed being ceased to live. I had another hut prepared 
immediately for its reception, and the body was removed to it 
without delay. Thither Prudence accompanied the senseless 
body ; and there she passed the remainder of the day, and the 
Avhole of the succeeding night, attended by Lowiny — with oc- 
casional offers of food and assistance from the men of the posse. 
Two or three of the latter, carpenters by trade, made a coffin of 
pine, and the body was placed in it in the customary manner. 
Others dug a grave in the centre of one of those rough fields 
that the squatter had appropriated to his own uses, thus making 
every thing ready for the interment, as soon as the coroner, who 
had been sent for, should have had his sitting over the body. 

The removal of the remains of Thousandacres left a sort of 
holy calm in the cabin of Chainbearer. My old friend was fast 
sinking ; and he said but little. His consciousness continued 
to the last, and Dus was often at prayer with him in the course 
of that day. Frank and I aided in doing the duty of nurses ; 
and we prevailed on Ursula to retire to the loft, and catch some 
rest, after her unwearying watchfulness. It was near sunset 
that old Andries again addressed himself particularly to me, 
who was sitting at his side, Dus being then asleep. 

** I shalt lif till mornin', I now fint, Mortaunt," he said ; 



452 THE CHAIN BEARER. 

** put, let deal' como when it wilt, it ist sent py my Lort and 
Maker, ant it ist welcome. Deaf hast no fears for me." 

*' He never had. Captain Coejemans, as the history of your 
whole career in the army shows." 

*' Yes, lat, t'ere wast a time when I shoult haf peen glat to 
haf peen shot on t'e fielt, and to haf diet with Montgomery, ant 
Laurens, ant Wooster, ant Warren, and siehlike gallant heroes ; 
put fat ist all gone, now. I'm like a man t'at hast peen walkin' 
over a wite plain, ant who hast come to its tarmination, where 
he sees pefore him an entlcss apyss into which he must next 
step. At sich a sight, lat, all t'e trouples, ant lapors, ant tiffi- 
culties of t'e plain seem so triflin', t'at t'ey pe forgotten. Mint, 
I do not wish to say t'at eternity is an apyss to me in fears, ant 
pains, ant tespair ; for t'e gootness of Got hast enlightenet my 
mint on t'at supject, ant hope, ant love, ant longin' for t'e pres- 
ence of my Maker, stant in t'eir places. Mortaunt, my lat, pe- 
fore I quit you, I coult wish to say a coople of worts to you on 
t'is sacret supject, if 'twill gif no offence ?" 

*'Say all, and what you please, dear Chainbearer. We are 
friends of the camp and the field, and the advice of no one could 
be more welcome to me than yours, given at a moment as 
solemn and truthful as this." 

" Tank ye, Mortaunt ; t'ank ye wit' all my heart. You know 
how it hast peen wit' me, since poyhoot ; for often ant often 
you ant I haf talket over t'ese t'ings in camp. I wast t'rown 
young upon t'e worlt, ant wast lelt wit'out fat'er, or mot'er, to 
pring myself up. An only chilt of my own fat'er, for Dus comes 
from a half-sister, you know, t'ere wast no one to care for me 1-- 
partic'lar, and I growet up in great ignorance of t'e Lort oi 
Hosts, ant my tuties to him, ant to his plesset son, more ast 
any t'ing else. Well, Mortaunt, you know how it ist in t'e 
woots, ant in t'e army. A man neet not pe fery pat, to pe far 
from pein' as goot as ist expectet of him by t'e Almighty, who 
gafe him his soul, ant who rcteemet him from his sins, ant who 
holts out taily t'e means of grace. When I come here, wit* 
Dus, a chilt knewest almost as much of t'e real natur' of religion 



THE CIIAINBEARER. 453 

ast I knewest. Put, t'at precious gal, t' rough Divine grace, 
hast peen t'e means of pringin' an olt ant ignorant man to a 
sense of his true contition, ant to petter hapits, t'an t'ose you 
knowest in him. Once I lovet a frolick, Mortaunt, and punch 
ant ot'er savory liquors wast fery pleasant to me ; ay, ant even 
a'ter years might ant shoult haf teachet me t'e folly of sich ways. 
Put you haf not seen t'e glass at my lips t'is summer, lat, at 
unseemly moments, or in unseemly numpers of times, ant t'at 
ist owin' to the confersations I haf hat wit' Dus on t'e supject. 
It woult haf tone your heart goot, Mortaunt, to haf seen t'e 
tear gal seated on my knee, combin' my olt gray hairs wit' her 
telicate white fingers, ant playin' with my hart, ret cheeks, ast 
t'e infant plays wit' t'e cheeks of t'e mot'er, whilst she talket to 
me of t'e history of Christ, ant his sufierin's for us all — ant tolt 
me t'e way to learn to know my safiour in trut' ant sincerity ! 
You t'ink Dus hantsome ; ant pleasant to look upon ; ant pleas- 
ant to talk wit' — put you can nefer know t'e gal in her colors 
of golt, Mortaunt, till she pegins to converse wit' you, unre- 
servetly, apout Got ant retemption !" 

" I can believe any thing in favor of Ursula Malbone, my 
dear Chainbearer; and no music could be sweeter, to my ears, 
than thus to hear you pronouncing her praise." 

The death of Chainbearer occurred, as he had himself prog- 
nosticated, about the time of the return of light on the succeed- 
ing morning. A more tranquil end I never witnessed. He 
ceased to suffer pain hours before he drew his last breath ; but 
he had whispered to me, in the course of that day, that he 
endured agony at moments. He wished me to conceal the fact 
from Dus, however, lest it should increase her grief. " So long 
ast t'e tear gal ist in ignorance of my suflferin's," the excellent 
old man added in his whisper, *' she cannot feel so much for 
me ; since she must have confitence in t'e value of her own goot 
work, ant s'pose me to pe only trawin' nearer to happiness. 
Put, you ant I know, Mortaunt, t'at men are not often shot 
t'rough t'e poty wit'out feelin' much pain ; ant I haf hat my 
«hare — yes, I haf hat my share !'* Nevertheless, it would have 



454 THE CHAIN BEARER. 

been difficult for one who was not in tlie secret to detect tlie 
smallest sign that the sufferer endured a tithe of the agony he 
actually underwent. Ursula ivas deceived ; and to this hour 
she is ignorant how much her uncle endured. But, as I have 
said, this pain ceased altogether about nine o'clock, and Andries 
even slumbered for many minutes at a time. Not long before 
the light returned, however, he became aroused, and never 
slumbered again until he fell into the long, last sleep of death. 
His niece prayed with him about five ; after which he seemed 
to consider himself as ready for the final march. 

It might have been owing to the age of the patient ; but in 
this instance death announced his near approach by a rapid 
loss of the senses. At first came a difficulty of hearing ; and 
then the quick decay of the sense of sight. The first was 
made known to us by a repetition of questions that had already 
been more than once answered ; while the painful fact that 
sight, if not absolutely gone, was going, was brought home 
to us by the circumstance that, while Dus was actually hover- 
ing over him like a guardian angel, he inquired anxiously where 
she was. 

*' I am here, uncle Chainbearer," answered the dear girl, 
in tremulous tones — *'here, before you, and am about to we* 
your lips." 

" I want t'e gal — t'at ist — I wish her to pe near when t'o 
spirit mounts to Heafen. Ilaf her callet, Frank or Mor- 
taunt." 

"Dear — dearest uncle, I am here, now — here before you 
— closest to you of all — almost in your arms," answered Dus, 
speaking loud enough to make herself heard, by an effort that 
cost her a great deal. *' Do not think I can ever desert you, 
until I know that your spirit has gone to the mercy-seat of 
God!" 

" I knowet it," said Chainbearer, endeavoring to raise his 
arms to feel for his niece, who met the effort by receiving his 
feeble and clammy hand in both her own. "Remember my 
wishes apout Mortaunt, gal — yet, shoult t'e family agree, marry 



THE CHAINBEARER. 455 

him wit' my plessin' — yes, my pest plessin'. Kiss me, Dus. — 
Wast t'em your lips? — t'ey felt colt; ant you are nefer colt of 
hant or heart. Moi-taunt — kiss me, too, lat — t'at wast warmer, 
ant hat more feelin' in it. Frank, gif me your hant — I owe you 
money — t'ere ist a stockin' half full of tollars. Your sister wilt 
pay my tebts. Ant General Littlepage owes me money — put 
most he owest me goot will. I pray Got to pless him — ant to 
pless Matam Littlepage — ant olt Matam Littlepage, t'at I nefer 
did see — ant t'e major, or colonel, ast he is now callet — ant all 
our rijiment — ant your rijiment, too, Frank, which wast a fery 
goot rijiment. Farewell, Frank — ^Dus — sister — precious — Christ 
Jesus, receive my — " 

These words came with difficulty, and were whispered, rather 
than uttered aloud. They came at intervals, too, especially 
toward the last, in a way to announce the near approach of the 
state of which they were the more immediate precursors. The 
last syllabic I have recorded was no sooner uttered, than the 
breath temporarily ceased. I removed Dus by gentle force, 
placing her in the arms of her brother, and turned to note the 
final respiration. That final breath in which the spirit appears 
to be exhaled, was calm, placid, and as easy as comports with 
the separation of soul and body; leaving the hard, aged, 
wrinkled, but benevolent countenance of the deceased, with an 
expression of happy repose on it, such as the friends of the 
dead love to look upon. Of all the deaths I had then witness- 
ed, this was the most tranquil, and the best calculated to renew 
the hopes of the Christian. As for myself, it added a pro- 
found respect for the character and moral qualities of- Ursula 
Malbone, to the love and admiration I bore her already, the 
fmits of her beauty, wit, heart, and other attractions. 

The two expected deaths had now taken place, and it only 
remained to dispose of the legal questions connected with the 
events which had caused them, inter the bodies, and return to 
the Nest. I saw that one of the cabins was prepared for the 
reception of Ursula and Lowiny, the latter still clinging to us, 
while the body of Chainbearer was laid out in a coffin that had 



456 THE C II AI N BE AR E R. 

been, made by tlic same hands, and at tlic same time, as tliat 
of Tliousandacres. About noon, tlie coroner arrived, not 
'Squire Newcome, but another, for whom he had himself sent; 
and a jury was immediately collected from among the members 
of the posse. The proceedings were of no great length. I 
told my story, or as much of it as was necessary, from begin- 
ning to end, and others gave their testimony as to the proceed- 
ings at different periods in the events. The finding was, in the 
case of Chainbearer, " murder by the hand of some person un- 
known ;" and in that of Thousandacres, *' accidental death." 
The first was right, unquestionably ; as to the last, I conceive, 
there was as little of "accident" as ever occurred, when a man 
was shot through the body by a steady hand, and an unerring 
eye. But such was the verdict, and I had nothing but conjec- 
tures for my opinion as to the agency of the Indian in killing 
the squatter. 

That evening, and a cool autumnal night it was, we buried 
Thousandacres, in the centre of the field I have mentioned. 
Of all his numerous family. Prudence and Lowiny alone were 
present. The service was short, and the man of violence de- 
scended to mingle with the clods of the earth, without a common 
prayer, a verse from Holy Writ, or any religious rite whatever. 
The men who had borne the body, and the few spectators pres- 
ent, filled the grave, rounded it handsomely, and covered it 
with sods, and were turning away in silence, to retrace their 
steps to the dwellings, when the profound stillness which had 
reigned throughout the whole of the brief ceremony, was sud- 
denly broken by the clear, full voice of Prudence, who spoke ir 
a tone and manner that arrested every step. 

" Men and brethren," said this extraordinary woman, who 
had so many of the vices of her condition, relieved by so 
many of the virtues of her sex and origin. ** Men and breth- 
ren," she said, "for I cannot call ye neighbors, and will not 
call you foes, I thank ye for this act of decent regard to the 
wants of both the departed and the living, and that ye have 
thus come to assist in burying my dead out of my sight," 



THE CHAINBEARER. 457 

Some sucli address, even a portion of tli'ese very words, were 
customary ; but as no one had expected any tiling of the sort 
at that moment, they startled as much as they surprised us. 
As the rest of the party recovered from its wonder, however, 
it proceeded toward the huts, leaving me alone with Pru- 
dence, who stood, swinging her body as usual, by the side of 
the grave. 

"The night threatens to be cool," I said, "and you had bet- 
ter return with me to the dwelling." 

'* What's the houses to me, now ! Aaron is gone, the b'ys 
be fled, and their wives and children, and nuj children, be fled, 
leaving none in this clearin' but Lowiny, who belongs more to 
your'n in feelin', than to me and mine, and the body that lies 
beneath the clods ! There's property in the housen, that I do 
s'pose even the law would give us, and maybe some one may 
want it. Give me that. Major Littlepage, to help to clothe and 
feed my young, and I'll never trouble this place ag'in. They'll 
not call Aaron a squatter for takin' up that small piece of 'arth ; 
and one day, perhaps, you'll not grudge to me as much more 
by its side. It's little more squattin' that I can do, and the 
next pitch I make, will be the last." 

"There is no wish on my part, good woman, to injure you. 
Your effects can be taken away from this place whenever you 
please, and I will even help you to do it," I answered, " in such 
a way as to put it in the power of your sons to receive the goods 
without risk to themselves. I remember to have seen a batteau 
of some size in the stream below the mill; can you tell me 
whether it remains there or not ?" 

*^ Why shouldn't it? The b'ys built it two years ago, to 
transport things in, and it's not likely to go off of itself." 

" Well, then, I will use that boat to get your effects off" with 
safety to yourself. To-morrow, every thing of any value that 
can be found about this place, and to which you can have any 
right, shall be put in that batteau, and I will send the boat, 
Avhen loaded, down the stream, by means of my own black and 
the Indian, who shall abandon it a mile or two below, where 
20 



458 THE CIIAINBEARER. 

tliose you may send to look for it, can take possession and carry 
the effects to any place you may clioose." 

The woman seemed surprised, and even affected by this pro- 
posal, though she a little distrusted my motives. 

"Can I depend on this, Major Littlepage ?" she askcJ, 
doubtingly. " Tohit and his brethren would be desp'ratc, ii* 
any scheme to take 'em should be set on foot under sich a 
disguise." 

" Tobit and his brethren have nothing to fear from treachery 
of mine. Has the word of a gentleman no value in your eyes ?" 

"I know that gentlemen gin'rally do as they promise ; and 
so I've often told Aaron, as a reason for not bein' hard on their 
property, but he never would hear to it. Waal, Major Littlepage, 
I'll put faith in you, and will look for the batteau at the place 
you've mentioned. God bless you for this, and may he prosper 
you in that which is nearest your heart ! We shall never see 
each other ag'in — farewell." 

" You surely will return to the house, and pass the night 
comfortably under a roof!" 

*• No ; I'll quit you here. The housen have little in 'em now 
that I love, and I shall be happier in the woods." 

" But the night is cool, and, ere it be morning it will become 
even chilling and cold." 

" It's colder in that grave," answered the woman, pointing 
mournfully with her long, skinny finger to the mound which 
covered the remains of her husband. ** I'm used to the forest, 
and go to look for my children. The mother that looks for her 
children is not to be kept back by winds and frost. Farewell 
ag'in, Major Littlepage. May God remember what you have 
done, and will do, for me and mine !" 

"But you forget your daughter. What is to become of your 
daughter ?" 

" Lowiny has taken desp'rately to Dus Malbone, and wishes 
Lo stay with her while Dus wishes to have her stay. If they 
get tired of each other, my da'ghter can easily find us. No 
gal of mine will be long put out in sich a i'arch." 



THE CIIAINBEARER. 459 

As all this sounded probable and well enough, I bad no fur- 
ther objections to urge. Prudence waved her hand in adieu, 
and away she went across the dreary-looking fields with the 
strides of a man, burying her tall, gaunt figure in the shadow of 
the wood, with as little hesitation as another would have entered 
the well-known avenues of some town. I never-saw her after- 
ward; though one or two messages from her did reach me 
through Lowiny. 

As I was returning from the grave, Jaap and the Trackless 
came in from their scout. The report they made was perfectly 
satisfactory. By the trail, which they followed for miles, the 
squatters had actually absconded, pushing for some distant point, 
and nothing more was to be feared from them in that part of 
the country. I now gave my orders as respected the goods 
and chattels of the family, which were neither very numerous 
nor very valuable ; and it may as well be said here as later, that 
every thing was done next day, strictly according to promise. 
The first of the messages that I received from Prudence came 
within a month, acknowledging the receipt of her efl'ects, even 
to the gear of the mill, and expressing her deep gratitude for 
the favor. I have reason to think, too, that nearly half the 
lumber fell into the hands of these squatters, quite that portion 
of it being in the stream at the time we removed from the spot, 
and floating off with the rains that soon set in. What was 
found at a later day was sold, and the proceeds were appro- 
priated to meet the expenses of, and to make presents to the 
posse, as an encouragement to such persons to see the majesty 
of the laws maintained. 

Early next morning we made our preparations to quit the 
deserted mill. Ten of the posse arranged themselves into a 
party to see the body of Chainbearer transported to the Nest. 
This was done by making a rude bier, that was carried by two 
horses, one preceding the other, and having the corpse sus- 
pended between them. I remained with the body ; but Dus, 
attended by Lowiny, and protected by her brother, preceded 
Lis, halting at Chainbearer's huts for our arri\al. At tliis point 



4G0 THE CIIAINBEARER. 

Ave passed tlic first night of our journey, Dus and Frank again 
preceding us, always on foot, to tlie Nest. At this place, the 
final halt of poor Andries, the brother and sister arrived at an 
hour before dinner, while we did not get in with the body until 
the sun was just setting. 

As our little procession drew near the house, I saw sl num- 
ber of wagons and horses in the orchard that spread around it, 
which at first I mistook for a collection of the tenants, met to 
do honor to the manes of Chainbearer. A second look, how- 
ever, let me into the true secret of the case. As we drew slowly 
near, the whole procession on foot, I discovered the persons of 
my own dear parents, that of Colonel Follock, those of Kate, 
Pris. Bayard, Tom Bayard, and even of my sister Kettletas, in 
the group. Last of all, I saw, pressing forward to meet me, 
yet a little repelled by the appearance of the cofiin, my dear 
and venerable old grandmother, hei*self ! 

Here, then, were assembled nearly all of the house of Little- 
page, with two or three near friends, who did not belong to it ! 
Frank Malbone was among them, and doubtless had told his 
story, so that our visitors could not be surprised at our ap- 
pearance. On the other hand, I was at no loss to understand 
how all this had been brought about. Frank's express had 
found the party at Fishkill, had communicated his intelligence, 
set every body in motion on the wings of anxiety and love, and 
here they were. The journey had not been particularly rapid 
cither, plenty of time having elapsed between the time when 
my seizure by the squatters was first made known to my friends, 
and the present moment, to have got a message to Lilacsbush, 
and to have received its answer. 

Kate afterward told me we made an imposing and solemn 
appearance, as we came up to the gate of Ravensnest, bearing 
the body of Chainbearer. In advance marched Susquesus and 
Jaap, each armed, and the latter carrying an axe, acting, as 
occasion required, in the character of a pioneer. The bearers 
and attendants came next, two and two, armed as a part of the 
nosse, and carrying packs ; next succeeded the horses with the 



THE. CHAIN BEARER. 461 

bier, eacli led by a keeper ; I was the principal mourner, though 
armed Hke the rest, while Chainbearer's poor slaves, now the 
property of Dus, brought up the rear, carrying his compass, 
chains, and other emblems of his calling. 

"We made no halt, but passing the crowd collected on the 
lawn, wc went through the gateway, and only came to a stand 
when we had reached the centre of the court. As all the arrange- 
ments had been previously made, the next step was to inter the 
body. I knew that General Littlepage had often officiated on 
such occasions, and a request to that effect was made to him, 
through Tom Bayard. As for myself, I said not a word to any 
of my own family, begging them to excuse me until I had seen 
the last offices performed to the remains of my friend. In half 
an hour all was ready, and again the solemn procession was 
resumed. As before, Susquesus and Jaap led the way, the 
latter now carrying a shovel, and acting in the capacity of a 
sexton. The Indian bore a flaming torch of pine, the darkness 
having so far advanced as to render artificial light necessary. 
Others of the party had these natural flambeaux, also, which 
added greatly to the solemnity and impressiveness of the scene. 
General Littlepage preceded the corpse, carrying a prayer-book. 
Then followed the bearers, with the coffin, the horses being now 
dismissed. Dus, veiled in black from head to foot and lean 
ing on Frank, appeared as chief mourner. Though this was 
not strictly in conformity with real New York habits, yet no 
one thouirht the occasion one on which to manifest the cus- 
tomary reserve of the sex. Every body in or near the Nest, 
females as well as males, appeared to do honor to the memory 
of Chainbearer, and Dus came forth as the chief mourner. 
Priscilla Bayard, leaning on the arm of her brother Tom, edged 
herself in next to her friend, though they had not as yet ex- 
changed a syllable together ; and, after all was over, Pris. told 
me it was the first funeral she had ever attended, or the first 
time she had ever been at a grave. The same was true of my 
grandmother, my mother, and both my sisters. I mention this 
'est some antiquarian, a thousand years hence, might light on 



462 THE CIIAINBEARER. 

this manuscript, and mistake our customs. Of late years, the 
New Englanders are introducing an innovation on tlie old usage 
of the colony ; but, among the upper real New York families, 
women do not even now attend funerals. In this respect, 1 
apprehend, we follow the habits of England, where females of 
the humbler classes, as I have heard, do, while their superiors 
do not appear on such occasions. The reason of the difference 
between the two is very easily appreciated, though I limit my 
statements to what I conceive to be the facts, without affecting 
to philosophize on them. 

But all our ladies attended the funeral of Chainbearer. I 
came next to Tom and Priscilla, Kate pressing up to my side, 
and placing her arm in mine, without speaking. As she did 
this, however, the dear girl laid her little hand on mine, and 
gave the latter a warm pressure, as much as to say how greatly 
she was rejoiced at finding me safe, and out of the hands of 
the Philistines. The rest of the party fell in behind, and, as 
soon as the Indian saw that every body was placed, he moved 
slowly forward, holding his flaming torch so high as to light the 
footsteps of those near him. 

Directions had been sent to the 'Nest to dig a grave for An- 
dries, in the orchard, and at no great distance from the verge 
of the rocks. As I afterward ascertained, it was at the very 
spot where one of the most remarkable events in the life of the 
general had occurred, an event in which both Susquesus and 
Jaap had been conspicuous actors. Thither, then, we proceeded 
in funeral order, and with funeral tread, the torches throwing 
their wild and appropriate light over the nearer accessories of 
the scene. Never did the service sound more solemnly to me, 
there being a pathos and richness in my father's voice that were 
admirably adapted to the occasion. Then he felt what he was 
reading, which does not always happen even when a clergyman 
officiates ; for not only was General Littlepage a close friend of 
the deceased, but he was a devout Christian. I felt a throb at 
the heart, as I heard the fall of the first clods on the coffin of 
Chainbearer; but reflection brought its calm, and from the 



THE CIIAINBEAREli. 4G3 

nioiiiciit Dus became^ as it miglit be, doubly dear to me. It 
appeared to me as if all lier uncle's love and care bad been 
transferred to myself, and that, henceforth, I was to be his rep- 
resentative with his much-beloved niece. I did not hear a sob 
i'rom Ursula during the whole ceremony. I knew that she 
Avept, and wept bitterly : but her self-command was so great as 
to prevent any undue obtrusion of her griefs on others. We 
all remained at the grave until Jaap had rounded it with hin 
utmost skill, and had replaced the last sod. Then the proces- 
sion formed anew, and we accompanied Frank and Dus to the 
door of the house, when she entered and left us without. Pris- 
cilla Bayard, however, glided in after her friend, and I saw 
them locked in each other's arms, through the window of the 
parlor, by the light of the fire within. At the next moment, 
they retired together to the little room that Dus had appro- 
priated to her own particular use; 

Now it was that I embraced and was embraced by my 
friends. Mymother held me long in her arms, called me her 
" dear, dear boy," and left tears on my face. Kate did pretty 
much the same, though she said nothing. As for Anneke, my 
dear sister Kettletas, her embrace was like herself, gentle, sin- 
cere, and warm-hearted. Nor must my dear old grandmother 
be forgotten ; for though she came last of the females, she held 
me longest in her arms, and, after *' thanking God" devoutly 
for my late escape, she protested that " I grew every hour more 
and more like the Littlepages." Aunt Mary kissed me with her 
customary affection. 

A portion of the embraces, however, occurred after we had 
entered the parlor, which Frank, imitating Dus, had delicately, 
as well as considerately, left to ourselves. Colonel Follock, 
nevertheless, gave me his salutations and congratulations before 
we left the court ; and they were as cordial and hearty as if he 
had been a second father. 

" How atmiraply the general reats, Mortaunt," our old friend 
added, becoming very Dutch as he got to be excited. " I haf 
always sayet t'at Corny Littlepage woult make as goot a tominio 



464 THE C II A I N B E A R E R . 

as any rector t'cy ever hat in olt Trinity. Put lie mate as goot 
a soltier, too. Corny ist an extraordinary man, Mortaunt, ant 
one tay lie wilt pe gofernor." 

This was a favorite theory of Colonel Van Yalkenburgh's. 
For himself, he was totally without ambition, whereas he 
thought nothing good enough for his friend, Corny Littlepage. 
Scarce a year passed that he did not allude to the propriety of 
elevating "t'e general" to some high office or other; nor am I 
certain that his allusions of this nature may not have had their 
effect ; since my father ivas elected to Congress as soon as the 
new constitution was formed, and continued to sit as long as his 
health and comfort would permit. 

Supper was prepared for both parties of travellers, of course, 
and in due time we all took our seats at table. I say all ; but 
that was not literally exact, inasmuch as neither Frank, Dus, 
nor Priscilla Bayard, appeared among us again that evening. I 
presume each had something to eat, though all took the meal 
apart from the rest of the family. 

After supper I was requested to relate, seriatimy all the re- 
cent events connected with my visit to the 'Nest, my arrest and 
liberation. This I did, of coui*se, seated at my grandmother^s 
side, the old lady holding one of my hands the whole time I 
was speaking. The most profound attention was lent by all 
the party ; and a thoughtful silence succeeded my narration, 
which ended only with the history of our departure from the 
mills. 

** Ay," exclaimed Colonel Follock, who was the first to speak 
after I had terminated my own account. *' So much for 
Yankee religion ! I'll warrant you now, Corny, t'at t'e fellow, 
T'ousantacres, coult preach ant pray just like all t'e rest of our 
Pilgrim Fat'ers." 

*' There are rogues of New York birth and extraction. Colo- 
nel Follock, as well as of New England," answered my father, 
dryly ; " and the practice of squatting is incidental to the con- 
dition of the country ; as men are certain to make free with 
the property that is least protected and watched. Squattera 



THE C H A I N B E A R E R . 465 

are made by circumstances, and not by any peculiar disposi- 
tion of a particular portion of the population to appropriate 
tlie land of others to their own uses. It would be the game 
with our hogs and our horses, were they equally exposed to the 
depredations of lawless men, let the latter come from Connecti- 
cut or Long Island." 

"Let me catch one of t'ese gentry among my horses!" 
answered the colonel, with a menacing shake of his head, 
for, Dutchman-like, he had a wonderful love for the species 
: — " I Avoult crop him wit' my own hands, wit' out chudgc or 
chury." 

*' That might lead to evils almost as great as those produced 
by squatting, Dirck," returned my father. 

" By the way, sir," I put in, knowing that Colonel Follock 
sometimes uttered extravagances on such subjects, though as 
honest and well-meaning a man as ever breathed — " I have for- 
gotten to mention a circumstance that may have some interest, 
as 'Squire Newcome is an old acquaintance of yours." I then 
recounted all the facts connected with the first visit of Mr. 
Jason Newcome to the clearing of Thousandacres, and the sub- 
stance of the conversation I had overheard between the squat- 
ter and that upright magistrate. General Littlepage listened 
with profound attention ; and as for Colonel Follock, he raised 
his eyebrows, grunted, laughed as well as a man could with his 
lips compressing a pipe, and uttered in the best way he was able, 
under the circumstances, and with sufficient scntentiousness, the 
single word " Danpury !" 

*' No — no — Dirck," answered my father, '* we must not put 
all the crimes and vices on our neighbors, for many of them 
grow, from the seedling to the tree bearing fruit, in our own 
soil. I know this man, Jason Newcome, reasonably well ; and, 
while I have confided in him more than I ought, perhaps, I 
have never supposed he was the person in the least influenced 
by our conventional notions of honor and integrity. What is 
called * law honest,' I have believed him to be ; but it would 
seem, in that I have been mistaken. Still, I am not prepared 



466 TUB CHAINBEARER. 

to admit tliat tlie place of liis birtL, or his education, is the sole 
cause of his backslidings." 

** Own t'e trut', Corny, like a man ast you pe, ant confess it 
ist all our pilgrim fat'ers' ant Tanpury itees. What use ist t'ere 
in misleetin' your own son, who wilt come, sooner or later, to 
see t'e whole trut'?" 

" I should be sorry, Dirck, to teach my son any narrow pre- 
judices. The last war has thrown me much among officers 
from New England, and the intercourse has taught me to esteem 
that portion of our fellow-citizens more than was our custom 
previously to the revolution." 

"Tush for 'intercourse,' ant 'esteem,' ant ' teachin', Cor- 
ny ! T'e whole t'ing of squattin' hast crosset t'e Byram rifer, 
ant unless we look to it, t'e Yankees wilt get all our lants away 
from us !" 

" Jason Newcome, when I knew him best, and I may say 
first," continued my father, without appearing to pay much 
attention to the observations of his friend the colonel, " was 
an exceedingly unfledged, narrow-minded provincial, with a 
most overweening notion, certainly, of the high excellencies 
of the particular state of society from which he had not long 
before emerged. He had just as great a contempt for New 
York, and New York wit, and New York usages, and especially 
for New York religion and morals, as Dirck here seems to have 
for all those excellencies as they are exhibited in New England, 
In a word, the Yankee despised the Dutchman, and the Dutch- 
man abominated the Yankee. In all this, there is nothing 
new, and I fancy the supercilious feeling of the New England- 
man can very easily be traced to his origin in the mother 
country. But, differences do exist, I admit, and I consider the 
feeling with which every New Englander comes among us, to 
l)e, \}j habit, adverse to our state of society in many particulars 
— some good and some bad — and this merely because he is not 
accustomed to them. Among other things, as a whole, the 
population of these states do not relish the tenures by wdiich 
our large estates are held. There are plenty of men, from that 



THE CIIAINBEARER. 467 

quarter of tlie country, who arc too well tauglit, and whoso 
honesty is too much of proof, not to wish to oppose any thing 
that is wrong in connection with this subject ; still, the preju- 
dices of nearly all who come from the east are opposed to the 
relation of landlord and tenant, and this because they do not 
wish to see large landlords among them, not being large land- 
lords themselves. I never found any gentleman, or man of 
education from New England, who saw any harm in a man's 
leasing a single farm to a single tenant, or half-a-dozen farms to 
half-a-dozen tenants ; proof that it is not the tenure itself with 
which they quarrel, but with a class of men who arc, or seem to 
be, their superiors." 

" I have heard the argument used against the leasehold sys- 
tem, that it retards the growth .and lessens the wealth of any 
district in which it may prevail." 

^' That it does not retard the growth, is proved by the fact 
that farms can be leased always, when it often requires years to 
sell them. This estate is half filled now, and will be entirely 
occupied, long ere Mooseridge will be a third sold. That the 
latter may be the richest and the best tilled district, in the end, is 
quite probable ; and this for the simple reasons that richer men 
buy than rent, to begin with, and the owner usually takes better 
care of his farm than the mere tenant Some of the richest, 
best cultivated, and most civilized regions on earth, however, 
are those in which the tenures of the actual occupants are, and 
ever have been, merely leasehold. It is easy to talk, and to feel, 
in these matters, but not quite so easy to come to just conclu- 
sions as some imagine. There are portions of England, for 
instance — Norfolk in particular — where the improvements are 
almost entirely owing to the resources and enterprise of the 
large proprietors. As a question of political economy, Mor- 
daunt, depend on it, this is one that has two sides to it ; as a 
question of mere stomach, each man will be apt to view it as 
his gorge is up or down." 

Shortly after this was said, the ladies complained of fatigue, 
a feeling in which we all participated ; and the party broke up 



468 



THE ClIAINBEAKER. 



for the night. It seems the general had sent back word by the 
express, of the accommodations he should require ; which en- 
abled the good people of the Nest to make such arrangemente 
as rendered every body reasonably comfortable. 







THE CHAINBEAKER. 469 



CHAPTER XXX. 

** Lid. — The victory is yours, sir." 

" King, — It is a glorious one, and well sets off 

Our scene of mercy ; to the dead we tender 
Our sorrow ; to the living, ample wishes 
Of future happiness." 

Beaumont and Fletcher. 

Fatigue kept me in bed next morning until it was late. On 
quitting the house I passed through the gateway, then always 
left open — defence being no longer thought of — and walked 
musingly toward the grave of Chainbearer. Previously to doing 
this, I went as far as each corner of the building, however, to 
cast an eye over the fields. On one side of the house I saw my 
father and mother, arm in arm, gazing around them ; while on 
the other, aunt Mary stood by herself, looking wistfully in the 
direction of a wooded ravine, which had been the scene of some 
important event in the early history of the country. When she 
turned to re-enter the building, I found her face bathed in tears. 
This respectable woman, who was now well turned of forty, had 
lost her betrothed in battle, on that very spot, a quarter of a 
century before, and was now gazing on the sad scene for the 
first time since the occurrence of the event. 

Something almost as interesting, though not of so sad a na- 
ture, also drew my parents to the other side of the house. When 
I joined them, an expression of grateful happiness, a little sad- 
dened perhaps by incidental recollections, was on the counte- 
nance of each. My dear mother kissed me affectionately as I 
drew near, and the general cordially gave me his hand while 
wishing me good-mornmg. 

"We were talking of you," observed the last, "at the very 
moment you appeared. Ravensnest is now becoming a valuable 



470 THE C II A I N B E A 11 E R . 

property ; and its income, added to the products of this large 
and very excellent farm that you have in your own hands, 
should keep a country house, not only in abundance, but with 
something more. You will naturally think of marrying ere 
long, and your mother and I were just saying that you ought to 
build a good, substantial stone dwelling on this very spot, and 
settle down on your own property. Nothing contributes so 
much to the civilization of a country as to dot it with a gentry, 
and you will both give and receive advantages by adopting such 
a course. It is impossible for those who have never been wit- 
nesses of the result, to appreciate the eflfect produced by one 
gentleman's family in a neighborhood, in the way of manners, 
tastes, general intelligence, and civilization at large." 

** I am very willing to do my duty, sir, in this, as in other 
particulars ; but a good stone country house, such as a landlord 
ought to build on his property, will cost money, and I have no 
sum in hand to use for such a purpose." 

" The house will cost far less than you suppose. Materials 
are cheap, and so is labor just now. Your mother and myself 
will manage to let you have a few extra thousands, for our town 
property is beginning to tell again, and fear nothing on that 
score. Make your selection of a spot, and lay the foundation 
of the house this autumn ; order the lumber sawed, the lime 
burned, and other preparations made — and arrange matters so 
that you can eat your Christmas dinner, in the year 1785, in 
the new residence of Ravcnsnest. By that time you will be 
ready to get married, and we may all come up to the house- 
warming." 

" Has any thing occurred in particular, sir, to induce you to 
imagine I am in any haste to marry ? You seem to couple 
matrimony and the new house together, in a way to make me 
think there has." 

I caught the general there, and, while my mother turned her 
head aside and smiled, I saw that my father colored a little, 
though he made out to laugh. After a moment of embarrass- 
ment, however, lie answered with spirit — my good, old grand- 



THE CHAIN BE A HER. 47l 

mother coming up and linking lier arm at his vacant side as ho 
did so. 

"Why, Mord, my boy, you can have very little of the sensi- 
bility of the Littlepages in you," he said, " if you can be a dail}* 
spectator of such female loveliness as is now near you, and not 
lose your heart." 

Grandmother fidgeted, and so did my mother ; for I could 
see that both thought the general had made too bold a demon- 
stration. With the tact of their sex, they would have been 
more on their guard. I reflected a moment, and then deter- 
mined to be frank ; the present being as good a time as any 
other, to reveal my secret. 

" I do not intend to be insincere with you, my dear sir," 
I answered, " for I know how much better it is to be open on 
matters that are of a common interest in a family, than to affect 
mysteriousness. I am a true Littlepage on the score of sensi- 
bility to the charms of the sex, and have not lived in daily famil- 
iar intercourse with female loveliness, without experiencing so 
much of its influence as to be a warm advocate for matrimony. 
It is my wish to marry, and that, too, before this new abode of 
Ravensnest can be completed." 

The common exclamation of deli2:ht that followed this dec- 
laration, sounded in my ears like a knell, for I knew it must 
be succeeded by a disappointment exactly proportioned to the 
present hopes. But I had gone too far to retreat, and felt 
bound to explain myself. 

" I'm afraid, my dear parents, and my beloved grandmother," 
I continued, as soon as I could speak, conscious of the necessity 
of being as prompt as possible, "that you have misunderstood 
me." 

"Not at all, my dear boy — not at all," interrupted my father. 
"You admire Priscilla Bayard, but have not yet so far pre- 
sumed on your reception as to offer. But what of that ? Your 
modesty is in your favor ; though I will acknowledge that, in 
my judgment, a gentleman is bound to let his mistress know, 
as soon as his own mind is made up, that he is a suitor for her 



47D the ciiainbearer. 

liand, and tliat it is ungenerous and unmanly to wait until cer- 
tain of success. Eemember that, Mordaunt, my boy ; modesty 
may be carried to a fault in a matter of this sort." 

"You still misunderstand me, sir. I have nothing to re- 
proach myself with on the score of manliness, though I may 
have gone too far in another way without consulting my friends. 
Beyond sincere good-will and friendship, Priscilla Bayard is 
nothing to me, and I am nothing to Priscilla Bayard." 

"Mordaunt !" exclaimed a voice, that I never heard without 
its exciting filial tenderness. 

" I have said but truth, dearest mother, and truth that ought 
to have been sooner said. Miss Bayard would refuse me to- 
morrow, were I to ofi"er." 

"You don't know that Mordaunt — you canH know it until 
you try," interrupted my grandmother, somewhat eagerly. 
" The minds of young women are not to be judged by the same 
rules as those of young men. Such an offer will not come 
every day, I can tell her ; and she's much too discreet and right- 
judging to do any thing so silly. To be sure, I have no au- 
thority to say how Priscilla feels toward you ; but, if her heart 
is her own, and Mordy Littlepage be not the youth that has 
stolen it, I am no judge of my own sex." 

" But, you forget, dearest grandmother, that were your flat- 
tering opinions in ray behalf all true — as I have good reason to 
believe they are not — ^but were they true, I could only regret it 
should be so ; for I love another." 

This time the sensation was so profound as to produce a com- 
mon silence. Just at that moment an interruption occurred, 
of a nature both so sweet and singular, as greatly to relieve me 
at least, and to preclude the necessity of my giving any imme- 
diate account of my meaning. I will explain how it occurred. 

The reader may remember that there were, originally, loops 
in the exterior walls of the house at Eavensnest, placed there 
for the purposes of defence, and which were used as small win- 
dows in these peaceable times. We were standing beneath one 
of those loops, not near enough, however, to be seen or heard 



THE CIIAINBEARER. 473 

by one at tlie loop, unless we raised our voices above the tone 
in wliicli we were actually conversing. Out of this loop, at 
that precise instant, issued the low, sweet strains of one of Dus's 
exquisite Indian hymns, I might almost call them, set, as was 
usual with her, to a plaintive Scotch melody. On looking toward 
the grave of Chainbearer, I saw Susquesus standing over it, and 
I at once understood the impulse which led Ursula to sing this 
song. The words had been explained to me, and I kncv/ that 
they alluded to a warrior's grave. 

The raised finger, the delighted expression of the eye, the 
attitude of intense listening which my beloved mother assumed, 
each and all denoted the pleasure and emotion she experienced. 
When, however, the singer suddenly changed the language to 
English, after the last guttural words of the Onondago had died 
on our ears, and commenced to the same strain a solemn En- 
glish hymn, that was short in itself, but full of piety and hope, 
the tears started out of my mother's and grandmother's eyes, 
and even General Littlepage sought an occasion to blow his nose 
in a very suspicious manner. Presently, the sounds died away, 
and that exquisite melody ceased. 

"In the name of wonder, Mordaunt, who can this nightin- 
gale be ?" demanded my father, for neither of the ladies could 
speak. 

" That is the person, sir, who has my plighted faith — the 
woman I must marry, or remain single." 

** This, then, must be the Dus Malbone, or Ursula Malbone, 
of whom I have heard so much from Priscilla Bayard, within 
the last day or two," said my mother, in the tone and with the 
manner of one who is suddenly enlightened on any subject that 
has much interest with him, or her; '* I ought to have expecte<l 
something of the sort, if half the praises of Priscilla be true." 

No one had a better mother than myself. Thoroughly a lady 
m all that pertains to the character, she was also an humble and 
pious Christian. Nevertheless, humility and piety are, in some 
respects, particularly the first, matters of convention. The fit- 
ness of things had great merit in the eyes of both my parents, 



474 THE C II AI NBE A RE K. 

and I cannot say that it is entirely without it in mine. In 
nothing is this fitness of things more appropriate than in equal- 
izing marriages ; and few things are less likely to be overlooked 
by a discreet parent, than to have all proper care that the child 
connects itself prudently ; and that, too, as much in reference 
to station, habits, opinions, breeding in particular, and the 
general way of thinking, as to fortune. Principles are inferred 
among people of principle, as a matter of course ; but subordi- 
nate to these, worldly position is ever of great importance in 
the eyes of parents. My parents could not be very different 
from those of other people, and I could see that both now 
thought that Ursula Malbone, the Chainbearer's niece, one who 
had actually carried chain herself, for I had lightly mentioned 
that circumstance in one of my letters, was scarcely a suitable 
match for the only son of General Littlepage. Neither said 
much, however ; though my father did put one or two questions 
that were somewhat to the point, ere we separated. 

" Am I to understand, Mordaunt," he asked, with a little of 
the gravity a parent might be expected to exhibit on hearing so 
unpleasant an announcement — " Am I to understand, Mordaunt, 
that you are actually engaged to this young — eh-eh-eh — this 
young person ?" 

" Do not hesitate, my dear sir, to call Ursula Malbone a lady. 
She is a lady by both birth and education. The last, most cer- 
tainly, or she never could have stood in the relation she does to 
your family." 

*' And what relation is that, sir?" 

*' It is just this, my dear father. I have offered to Ursula — 
indiscreetly, hastily, if you will, as I ought to have waited to 
consult you and my mother — but we do not always follow the 
dictates of propriety in a matter of so much feeling. I dare 
say, sir, you did better" — here I saw a slight smile on the 
pretty mouth of my mother, and I began to suspect that the 
general had been no more dutiful than myself in this particular 
— **but I hope my forgetfulness will be excused, on account of 
the influence of a passion w^hich we all find so hard to resist." 



THE CII AINBE A RE U. 4V5 

" But ^Yllat is tlio relation this young — lady — bears to my 
family, Mordaunt ? You are not already married ?" 

" Far from it, sir ; I sliould not so far have f^iiled in respect 
to you three — or even to Anncke and Katrinke. I have offered^ 
and have been conditionally accepted." 

" Which condition is " 

" The eonsent of you three ; the perfect approbation of my 
whole near connection. I believe that Dus, dear Dus, does 
love me, and that she would cheerfully give me her hand, were 
she certain of its being agreeable to you, but that no persuasion of 
mine will ever induce her so to do under other circumstances." 

" This is something, for it shows the girl has principle," an- 
swcred my father. " Why, who goes there V 

"Who went there?" sure enough. There went Frank Mal- 
bone and Priscilla Bayard, arm and arm, and so engrossed in 
conversation that they did not see who were observing them. I 
dare say they fancied they were in the woods, quite sheltered 
from curious eyes, and at liberty to saunter about, as much 
occupied with each other as they pleased ; or, what is more 
probable, that they thought of nothing, just then, but of them- 
selves. They came out of the court, and walked off swiftly into 
the orchard, appearing to tread on air, and seemingly as happy 
as the birds that were carolling on the surrounding trees. 

'' There, sir," I said, significantly—" There, my dear mother, 
is the proof that Miss Priscilla Bayard will not break her heart 
on my account." 

"This is very, extraordinary, indeed!" exclaimed my much 
disappointed grandmother— " Is not that the young man who 
we were told acted as Chainbearer's surveyor. Corny ?" 

" It is, my good mother, and a very proper and agreeable 
youth he is, as I know by a conversation held with him last 
night. It is very plain we have all been mistaken" — added the 
general ; " though I do not know that we ought to say that we 
have any of us been deceived." 

" Here comes Kate, with a face which announces that she is 
fully mistress of the secret," I put in, perceiving my sister com- 



47G T H E C II A I N B E A RJS K. 

ing round our angle of the building, with a countenance which 
I knew betokened that her mind and heart were full. Sho 
joined us, took my arm without speaking, and followed my 
father, who led his wife and mother to a rude bench that had 
been placed at the foot of a tree, where we all took seats, each 
waiting for some other to speak. My grandmother broke the 
silence. 

" Do you see Pris. Bayard yonder, walking with that Mr. 
Frank Chainbearer, or Surveyor, or whatever his name is, Kat- 
rinko dear ?" asked the good old lady. 

"I do grandmamma," answered the good young lady in a 
voice so pitched as to be hardly audible. 

"And can you explain what it means, darling ?" 

"I believe I can, ma'am — if — if — Mordaunt wishes to hear." 

** Don't mind me, Kate," returned I, smiling — "My heart 
will never be broken by Miss Priscilla Bayard." 

The look of sisterly soli-citude that I received from that honest- 
hearted girl, ought to have made me feel very grateful ; and it 
did make me feel grateful, for a sister's affection is a sweet 
thing. I believe the calmness of my countenance and its smil- 
ing expression encouraged the dear creature, for she now began 
to tell her story as fast as was at all in rule. 

" The meaning, then, is this," said Kate. " That gentleman 
is Mr. Francis Malbone, and he is the engaged suitor of Pris- 
cilla. I have had all the facts from her own mouth." 

" Will you, then, let us hear as many of them as it is proper 
we should know V said the general, gravely. 

" There is no wish on the part of Priscilla to conceal any 
thing. She has known Mr. Malbone several years, and they 
have been attached all that time. Nothing impeded the affair 
but his poverty. Old Mr. Bayard objected to that, of course, 
you know, as fathers will, and Priscilla would not engage her- 
self. But — do you not remember to have heard of the death 
of an old Mrs. Ilazleton, at Bath, in England, this summer, 
mamma? The Bayards arc in half-mourning for her, now." 

" Certainly, my dear — Mrs. Ilazleton was Mr. Bayard's aunt ; 



THE C II AIXBE ARE R. 477 

I knew her well once, before she became a refuo-ee — her hus- 
band was a half-pay Colonel Hazleton of the royal artillery ; 
and they were tories of course. The aunt was named Priscilla, 
and was godmother to our Pris." 

** Just so — well, this lady has left Pris. ten thousand pounds 
in the English funds, and the Bayards now consent to her 
marrying Mr. Malbone. They say, too, but I don't think that 
can have had any influence, for Mr. Bayard and his wife are 
particularly disinterested people, as indeed are all the family" — 
added Kate, hesitatingly and looking down : " but they say 
that the death of some young man will probably leave Mr. Mal- 
bone the heir of an aged cousin of his late father's." 

*' And now, my dear father and mother, you will perceive 
that Miss Bayard will not break her heart because I happen to 
love Dus Malbone. I see by your look, Katrinke, that you 
have had some hint of this backsliding also." 

*' I have ; and what is more, I have seen the young lady, and 
can hardly wonder at it. Anneke and I have been passing two 
hours with her this morning ; and since you cannot get Pris., 
I know no other, Mordaunt, who will so thoroughly supply her 
place. Anneke is in love with her also !" 

Dear, good, sober-minded, judicious Anneke ; — she had pen- 
etrated into the true character of Dus, in a single interview; 
a circumstance that I ascribed to the impression left by the re 
i'Oiit death of Chainbearer. Ordinarily, that spirited young 
woman would not have permitted a sujEciently near approach 
in a first interview, to permit a discovery of so many of her 
sterling qualities ; but now her heart was softened, and her 
spirit so much subdued, one of Anneke's habitual gentleness 
would be very apt to win on her sympathies, and draw the two 
close to each other. The reader is not to suppose that Dus had 
opened her mind like a vulgar school-girl, and made my sister 
a confidant of the relation in which she and I stood to one an- 
other. She had not said, or hinted, a syllable on the subject. 
The information Kate possessed had come from Priscilla Bayard, 
who obtained it from Frank, as a matter of course ; and my sis- 



4*78 THE CHAINBEARER. 

ter subsequently admitted to me that her friend's happiness was 
augm-ented by the knowledge that I should not be a sufferer by 
her earlier preference for Malbone, and that she was likely to 
have me for a brother-in-law. All this I gleaned from Kate, in 
our subsequent conferences. 

" This is extraordinary !" exclaimed the general — "very ex- 
traordinary ; and to me quite unexpected." 

"We can have no right to control Miss Bayard's choice," 
observed my discreet and high-principled mother. " She is her 
own mistress, so far as we are concerned ; and if h^r own par- 
ents approve of her choice, the less we say about it the better. 
As respects this connection of Mordaunt's, I hope he himself 
will admit of our right to have opinions." 

"Perfectly so, my dearest mother. AILI ask of you is, to 
express no opinion, however, until you have seen Ursula — have 
become acquainted with her, and are qualified to judge of her 
fitness to be not only mine, but any man's wife. I ask but this 
of your justice." 

" It is just ; and I shall act on the suggestion," observed my 
father. " You have a right to demand this of us, Mordaunt, 
and I can promise for your mother, as well as myself." 

"After all, Anneke," put in grandmother, "I am not sure 
we have no right to complain of Miss Bayard's conduct toward 
us. Had she dropped the remotest hint of her being engaged 
to this Malbrook, I would never have endeavored to lead my 
grandson to think of her seriously for one moment." 

" Your grandson never has thought of her seriously for one 
moment, or for half a moment, dearest grandmother," I cried ; 
" so give your mind no concern on that subject. Nothing of 
the sort could make me happier than to know that Priscilla 
Bayard is to marry Frank Malbone ; unless it were to be cer- 
tain I am myself to marry the latter's half-sister." 

" How can this be ? — How could such a thing possibly come 
to pass, my child ! I do not remember ever to have heard of 
this person — much less to have spoken to you on the subject of 
such a connection." 



THE C II AI N BE ARE R. 479 

*' Oh ! dearest grandmother, we truant children sometimes 
get conceits of this nature into our heads and hearts, without 
stopping to consult our relatives as we ought to do." 

But it is useless to repeat all that was said in the long and 
desultory conversation that followed. I had no reason to be 
dissatisfied with my parents, who ever manifested toward me not 
only great discretion, but great indulgence. I confess, when a 
domestic came to say that Miss Dus was at the breakfast-table, 
waiting for ns alone, I trembled a little for the effect that might 
be produced on her appearance by the scenes she had lately 
gone through. She had wept a great deal in the course of the 
last week ; and when I last saw her, which was the glimpse 
caught at the funeral, she was pale and dejected in aspect. A 
lover is so jealous of even the impression that his mistress will 
make on those he wishes to admire her, that I felt particularly 
uncomfortable as we entered first the court, then the house, and 
last the eatino;-room. 

A spacious and ample board had been spread for the accom- 
modation of our large party. Anneke, Priscilla, Frank Mal- 
bone, aunt Mary, and Ursula, were already seated when we 
entered, Dus occupying the head of the table. No one had 
commenced the meal, nor had the young mistress of the board 
even begun to pour out the tea and cofiee (for my presence had 
brought abundance into the house), but there she sat, respect- 
fully waiting for those to approach who might be properly con- 
sidered the principal guests. I thought Dus had never appeared 
more lovely. Her dress was a neatly-arranged and tasteful 
talf-mourning ; with which her golden hair, rosy cheeks, and 
bright eyes, contrasted admirably-. The cheeks of Dus, too, 
had recovered their color, and her eyes their brightness. The 
fact was, that the news of her brother's improved fortunes had 
even been better than we were just told. Frank found letters 
for him at the 'Kest, announcing the death of his kinsman, 
with a pressing invitation to join the bereaved parent, then an 
aged and bed-ridden invalid, as his adopted son. He was urged 
to bring Dus with him ; and he received a handsome remittance 



480 T II E C II A I N B E A R E R . 

to enable liim so to do without inconvenience to himself. This 
aloae would have brought happiness back to the countenance 
of the poor and dependent. Dus mourned her uncle in sin- 
cerity, and she long continued to mourn for him ; but her 
mourning was that of the Christian who hoped. Chainbearer's 
hurt had occurred several days before ; and the first feeling of 
sorrow had become lessened by time and reflection. His erd 
had been happy ; and he was now believed to be enjoying the 
fruition of his penitence through the sacrifice of the Son of 
God. 

It was easy to detect the surprise that appeared in the coun- 
tenances of all my parents, as Miss Malbone rose, like one who 
was now confident of her position and claims to give and to 
receive the salutations that were proper for the occasion. Never 
did any young woman acquit herself better than Dus, who 
courtesied gracefully as a queen ; while she returned the compli- 
ments she received with the self-possession of one bred in courts. 
To this she was largely indebted to nature ; though her school- 
ing had been good. Many of the first young women of the 
colony had been her companions for years ; and in that day, 
manner was far more attended to than it is getting to be amongst 
us now. My mother was delighted; for, as she afterward 
assured me, her mind was already made up to receive Ursula as 
a daughter ; since she thought it due to honor to redeem my 
plighted faith. General Littlepage might not have been so 
very scrupulous ; though even he admitted the right of the 
obligations I had incurred ; but Dus fairly carried him by storm. 
The tempered sadness of her mien gave an exquisite finish to 
her beauty, rendering all she said, did, and looked, that morn- 
ing, perfect. In a word, every body was wondering ; but every 
body was pleased. An hour or two later, and after the ladies 
had been alone together, my excellent grandmother came to me 
and desired to have a little conversation with me apart. We 
found a seat in the arbor of the court ; and my venerable 
parent commenced as follows : — 

''Well, Mordauntj my dear, it is time that you should think 



THE C II AI N BE AKE 11. 481 

of marrying and of settling in life. As Miss Bayard is happily 
engaged, I do not see that you can do better than to offer to 
Miss Malbone. Never have I seen so beautiful a creature ; and 
the generous- minded Pris. tells me she is as good, and virtuous, 
and wise, as she is lovely. She is well born and well educated ; 
and may have a good fortune in the bargain, if that old Mr 
Malbone is as rich as they tell me he is, and has conscience 
enough to make a just will. Take my advice, my dear son, 
and marry Ursula Malbone." 

Dear grandmother ! I did take her advice ; and I am per- 
suaded that, to her dying day, she was all the more happy 
under the impression that she had materially aided in bringing 
about the connection. 

As General Littlepage and Colonel Follock had come so far, 
they chose to remain a month or two, in order to look after 
their lands, and to revisit some scenes in that part of the world 
in which both felt a deep interest. My mother, and aunt Mary, 
too, seemed content to remain ; for they remembered events 
which the adjacent country recalled to their minds with a mel- 
ancholy pleasure. In the meanwhile Frank went to meet his 
cousin, and had time to return, ere our paily was disposed to 
break up. During his absence every thing was arranged for 
my marriage with his sister. This event took place just two 
months, to a day, from that of the funeral of Chainbearer. A 
clergyman was obtained from Albany to perform the ceremony, 
as neither party belonged to the Congregational order ; and an 
hour after we were united, every body left us alone at the 'Nest, 
on their return south. I say every body, though Jaap and Sus- 
quesus were exceptions. These two remained, and remain to 
this hour: thouofh the negro did return to Lilacsbush and 

7 O 

Satanstoe to assemble his family, and to pay occasional visits. 

There was much profound feeling, but little parade, at the 
wedding. My mother had got to love Ursula as if she were 
her own child : and I had not only the pleasure, but the triumph 
of seeing the manner in which my betrothed rendered hevself 
from day to day, and this without any other mejina than thq 
21. 



482 THE CIIAINBEARER. 

most artless and natural, more and more acceptable to my 
friends. 

*' This is perfect happiness," said Dus to me, one lovely after* 
noon that we were strolling in company along the cliff, near the 
Nest — and a few minutes after she had left my mother's arms, 
who had embraced and blessed her, as a pious parent does both 
to a well-beloved child — ''This is perfect happiness, Mordaunt, 
to be the chosen of you, and the accepted of your parents ! I 
never knew, until now, what it is to have a parent. "Uncle 
Chainbearer did all he could for me, and I shall cherish his 
memory to my latest breath — but uncle Chainbearer could never 
supply the place of a mother. How blessed, how undeservedly 
blessed does my lot promise to become ! You will give me not 
only parents, and parents I can love as well as if they were those 
gi^anted by nature, but you will give me also two such sisters 
as few others possess !" 

"And I give you all, dearest Dus, encumbered with such a 
husband that I am almost afraid you will fancy the other gifts 
too dearly purchased, when you come to know him better." 

The ingenuous, grateful look, the conscious blush, and the 
thoughtful, pensive smile, each and all said that my pleased 
and partial listener had no concern on that score. Had I then 
understood the sex as well as I noAV do, I might have foreseen 
that a wife's affection augments, instead of diminishing ; that 
the love the pure and devoted matron bears her husband in- 
creases Vv'ith time, and gets to be a part and parcel of her moral 
existence. I am no advocate of what are called, strictly, "mar- 
riages of reason" — I think the solemn and enduring knot should 
be tied by the hands of warm-hearted, impulsive affection, in- 
creased and strengthened by knowledge and confidential ming- 
lings of thought and feeling ; but I have lived long enough to 
understand that, lively as are the passions of youth, they pro- 
duce no delights like those which spring fi'om the tried and 
deep affections of a happy married life. 

And we were married ! The ceremony took place before 
breakfest, in order to enable our friends to reach the great high 



THE C II AI N BE A RE R. 483 

way ere niglit sliould overtake tliem. The meal that succeeded 
was silent and tliouglitful. Then my dear, dear mother took 
Dus in her arms, and kissed and blessed her again and again. 
My honored father did the same, bidding my weeping, but 
happy bride remember that she was now his daughter. *' Mor- 
daunt is a good fellow, at the bottom, dear, and will love and 
cherish you, as he has promised," added the general, blowing 
his nose to conceal his emotion; " but should he ever forget 
any part of his vows, come to me, and I will visit him with a 
father's displeasure." 

"No fear of Mordaunt — no fear of Mordaunt," put in my 
worthy grandmother, who succeeded in the temporary leave- 
taking — ''he is a Littlepage, and all the Littlepagcs make ex- 
cellent husbands. The boy is as like what his grandfather was, 
at his time of life, as one pea is like another. God bless you, 
daughter — you will visit me at Satanstoe this fall, when I shall 
have great pleasure in showing you my general's picture.'* 

Anneke and Kate, and Pris. Bayard hugged Dus in such a 
way that I was afraid they w^ould eat her up, while Frank took 
his leave of his sister with the manly tenderness he always 
showed her. The fellow was too happy himself, however, to 
be shedding many tears, though Dus actually sobbed on Ms 
bosom. The dear creature was doubtless running over the 
past, in her mind, and putting it in contrast with the blessed 
present. 

At the end of the honey-moon, I loved Dus twice as much 
as I had loved her the hour we were married. Had any one 
told me this was possible, I should have derided the thought ; 
but thus it was, and I may truly add, thus has it ever continued 
to be. At the end of that month, we left Ravensnest for Lilacs- 
bush, -when I had the pleasure of seeing my bride duly intro- 
duced to that portion of what is called the world, to which she 
properly belonged. Previously to quitting the Patent, however, 
all my plans were made, and contracts were signed, preparatory, 
to the construction of the house that my father had mentioned. 
The foundation was laid that same season, and we did keep our 



484 THE CII AINBE ARE R. 

Christmas liolidays in it, the following year, by which time Da? 
had made me the father of a noble boy. 

It is scarcely necessary to say that Frank and Pris. were mar- 
ried, as were Tom and Kate, at no great distance of time aftei 
ourselves. Both of those matches have turned out to be per- 
fectly happy. Old Mr. Malbone did not survive the winter, 
and he left the whole of a very sufficient estate to his kins- 
man. Frank was desirous of making his sister a sharer in his» 
good fortune, but I would not hear of it. Dus was treasure 
enough of herself, and wanted not money to enhance her value 
in my eyes. I thought so in 1785, and I think so to-day. We 
got some plate and presents, that were well enough, but never 
would accept any portion of the property. The rapid growth 
of New York brought our vacant lots in that thriving town into 
the market, and we soon became richer than was necessary to 
happiness. I hope the gifts of Providence have never been 
abused. Of one thing I am certain; Dus has ever been flir 
more prized by me than any other of my possessions. 

I ought to say a word of Jaap and the Indian. Both are 
still living, and both dwell at the Nest. For the Indian I 
caused a habitation to be erected in a certain ravine, at no great 
distance from the house, and which had been the scene of one 
of his early exploits in that part of the country. Here he lives, 
and has lived for the last twenty years, and here he hopes to 
die. He gets his food, blankets, and whatever else is necessary 
to supply his few wants, at the Nest, coming and going at 
will. He is now drawing fast on old age, but retains his elastic 
step, upright movement, and vigor. I do not see but he may 
live to be a hundred. Tlie same is true of Jaap. The old fellow 
holds on, and enjoys life like a true descendant of the Africans. 
He and Sus are inseparable, and often stray off into the forest 
on long hunts, even in the winter, returning with loads of veni- 
son, wild turkeys, and other game. The negro dwells at the 
Nest, but half his time he sleeps in the wigwam, as we call the 
dwelling of Sus. The two old fellows dispute frequently, and 
occasionally they quarrel ; but, as neither drinks, the quarrels 



THE CIIAINBEARER. 485 

arc never very long or very serious. They generally grow out 
of differences of opinion an moral pliilosophy, as connected Avith 
their respective views of the past and the future. 

Lowiny remained with us as a maid until she made a very 
suitable marriage with one of my own tenants. For a little 
while after my marriage I thought she was melancholy, proba- 
bly through regret for her absent and dispersed family ; but this 
feeling soon disappeared, and she became contented and happy. 
Her good looks improved under the influence of civilization, 
and I have the satisfaction of adding that she never has had 
any reason to regret having attached herself to us. To this 
moment she is an out-door dependent and humble friend of 
my wife, and we find her particularly useful in cases of illness 
among our children. 

What shall I say of 'Squire Newcome ? He lived to a good 
old age, dying quite recently ; and with many who knew, or, 
rather, who did not know him, he passed for a portion of the 
salt of the earth. I never proceeded against him on account 
of his connection with the squatters, and he lived his time in a 
sort of lingering uncertainty as to my knowledge of his tricks. 
That man became a sort of a deacon in his church, was more 
than once a member of the Assembly, and continued to be a 
favorite recipient of public favors down to his last moment ; 
and this simply because his habits brought him near to the 
mass, and because he took the most elaborate care never to tell 
them a truth that was unpleasant. He once had the temerity 
to run against me for Congress, but that experiment proved to 
be a failure. Had it been attempted forty years later, it might 
have succeeded better. Jason died poor and in debt, after all 
his knavery and schemes. Avidity for gold had overreached 
itself in his case, as it does in those of so many others. His 
descendants, notwithstanding, remain with us ; and while they 
have succeeded to very little in the way of property, they are 
the legitimate heritors of their ancestor's vulgarity of mind 
and manners — of his tricks, his dissimulations, and his frauds. 
This is the way in which Provklcncc " visits the sins of tho 



486 



THE ClIAINBEARER. 



fathers upon tlic cliildreii, unto the third and fourth genera 
tions." 

Little more remains to be said. The owners of Mooseridge 
have succeeded in seUing all the lots they wished to put into the 
market, and large sums stand secured on them, in the way of 
bonds and mortgages. Anneke and Kate have received fair 
portions of this property, including much that belonged to 
Colonel Follock, who now lives altogether with my parents. 
Aunt Mary, I regret to say, died a few years since, a victim to 
smallpox. She never married, of course, and left her hand- 
some property between my sisters and a certain lady of the 
name of Ten Eyck, who needed it, and whose principal claim 
consisted in her being a third cousin of her former lover, I be- 
lieve. My mother mourned the death of her friend sincerely, 
as did we all ; but we had the consolation of believing her 
happy with the angels. 

I caused to be erected, in the extensive grounds that were 
laid out around the new dwelling at the Nest, a suitable monu- 
ment over the grave of Chainbearer. It bore a simple inscrip- 
tion, and one that my children now often read and comment on 
with pleasure. We all speak of him as " Uncle Chainbearer" 
to this hour, and his grave is never mentioned on other terms 
than those of *' Uncle Chainbearer's grave." Excellent old 
man ! That he was not superior to the failings of human na- 
ture, need not be said ; but so long as he lived, he lived a proof 
of how much more respectable and estimable is the man who 
takes simplicity, and honesty, and principle, and truth for his 
guide, than he who endeavors to struggle through the world 
by the aid of falsehood, chicanery, and trick. 




BRESSANT. 

A NOVEL. 

By JULIAN HAWTHORNE. 
1 vol, 12ino. Cloth ...Price, $1.50 



From the London Examiner. 

' We will not say that Mr. Julian Hawthorne has received a double portion of his 
father's spirit, but ' Brcssant ' proves that he has inherited the distinctive tone and 
fibre of a gift which was altogether exceptional, and moved the author of the ' Scarlet 
Letter ' beyond the reach of imitators. 

" Bressant, Sophie, and Cornelia, appear to us invested with a sort of enchantment 
which we should find it diflacult to account for by any reference to any special passage 
in their story." 

From the London Athenoeum. 
" Mr. Hawthorne's book forms a remarkable contrast, in point of power and interest, 
to the dreary mass of so-called romances through which the reviewer works his way. 
It is not our purpose to forestall the reader, by any detailed account of the story ; suf- 
fice it to say that, if we can accept the preliminary difficulty of the problem, its solution, 
in all its steps, is most admirably worked out." ^ 

From the Pall Mall Gazette. 
"So far as a man may be judged by his first work, Mr. Julian Hawthorne is en- 
dowed with a large share of his father's peculiar genius. We trace in ' Bressant ' the 
same intense yearning after a high and spiritual life, the same passionate love of nature, 
the same subtlety and dehcacy of remark, and also a little of the same tendency to in- 
dulge in the use of a half- weird, half-fantastic imagery." 

From the Kew York Times. 
" 'Bressant' is, then, a work that demonstrates the fitness of its author to bear the 
name of Hawthorne. More in praise need not be said ; but, if the promise of the book 
shall not utterly fade and vanish, Julian Hawthorne, in the maturity of his power, will 
rank side by side with him who has hitherto been peerless, but whom we must here- 
after call the ' Elder Hawthorne.' " 

From the Boston Post. 
"There is beauty as well as power in this novel, the two so pleasantly blended, that 
the sudden and incomplete conclusion, although ending the romance with an abrupt- 
ness that is itself artistic, comes only too soon for the reader." 

From the Boston Globe. 
"It is by far the most original novel of the season that has been published at home 
or abroad, and will take high rank among the best American novels ever written." 

From the Boston Gazette. 
" There is a strength in the book which takes it in a marked degree out of the range 
of ordinary works of fiction. It is substantially an original story. There are freshuesa 
and vigor in every part." 

From the Ilome Journal. 
"'Bressant' is a remarkable romance, full of those subtle touches of fancy, and that 
Insight into the human heart, which distinguish genius from the mere clever and en- 
tertaining writers of whom we have perhaps too many." 



D. APPLETON & CO., Publishers, New York. 



LEATHER-STOCKING NOVELS. 



"The enduring monuments of Fenimoke Cooper are his works. While 

THE love of country CONTINUES TO PREVAIL, HIS MEMORY WILL EXIST IN THU 
HEARTS OF THE PEOPLE. So TRULY PATRIOTIC AND AMERICAN THROUGHOUT, THEJi 
SHOULD FIND A PL.\CE IN EVERY AMERICAN'S LIBRARY." — Dauicl Webstcr. 



SPLENDIDLT-ILLDSTRATED POPULAR EDITION 

OF 

FENIMORE COOPER'S 

WORLD-FAMOUS 

LEATHEE-STOCKING EOMANCES. 



D. Appleton & Co, announce that they have commenced the publica- 
tion of J. Fenimore Cooper's Novels, in a form designed for general 
popular circulation. The series begins with the famous " Leather-Stock- 
ing Tales," five in number, and Avill be published in the following order, 
at intervals of about a month : 

I. The Last of the Mohicans. 
II. The Deerslayer. IV. The Pioneers. 

III. The Pathfinder. V. The Prairie. 

This edition of the " Leather-Stocking Tales " will be printed in hand- 
some octavo volumes, from new stereotype plates, each volume superbly 
and fully illustrated with entirely new designs by the distinguished artist, 
F. 0. C. Darley, and bound in an attractive paper cover. Fricc, 75 ce7iis 
per volume. 

Heretofore there has been no edition of the acknowledged head of 
American romancists suitable for general popular circulation, and hence 
the new issue of these famous novels will be welcomed by the generation 
of readers that have sprung up since Cooper departed from us. As time 
progresses, the character, genius, and value of the Cooper Eomances be- 
come more widely recognized ; he is now accepted as the great classic of 
our American literature, and his books as the prose epics of our early 
history. 

D. APPLETON & CO., Publishers, New York. 



"GOOD-BYE, SWEETHEART!' 



D. APPLETON & CO. 

Have recently pudlished, 

GOOD-BYE, SWEETHEART! 

By SII05>A BROUGMTOW, 

AUTHOR OF "red AS A ROSE IS SHE," " COMETH UP AS A FLOWER," ETC. 

One Vol., 8vo, Paper covers Price, $0.75. 

'* J2mo. Cloth " 1.50. 



" Good-bye, Sweetheart ! " is certainly one of the brightest and most 
entertaining novels that has appeared for many years. The heroine of the 
story, Lenore, is really an original character, drawn only as a woman 
could draw her, who had looked deeply into the mysterious recesses of 
the feminine heart. She is a creation totally beyond the scope of a man's 
pen, unless it were the pen of Shakespeare. Her beauty, her wilfulness, 
her caprice, her love, and her sorrow, are depicted with marvellous skill, 
and invested with an interest of which the reader never becomes weary. 
Miss Broughton, in this work, has made an immense advance on her other 
stories, clever as those are. Her sketches of scenery and of interiors, 
though brief, are eminently graphic, and the dialogue is always sparkling 
and witty. The incidents, though sometimes startling and unexpected, 
are very natural, and the characters and story, from the beginning to the 
end, strongly enchain the attention of the reader. The work has been 
warmly commended by the press during its publication, as a serial, in 
Appletons' Journal, and, in its book-form, bids fair to be decidedly xni 
novel of the season. 



D. A. <$; Co. have now ready, New Editions of 

COMETH UP AS A FLOWER Price, CO opiits. 

NOT WISELY, BUT TOO WELL Price, 60 ccntp. 

RED AS A ROSE IS SHE Price, GO cents. 

BY THE SAME AUXnOB. 



Xj O T 3Ea: .A. Z I=L . 

A NOVEL. 

By the Right Honorable BENJAMIN DISRAELI, Late Prime Minister of Great Brittin. 

"NOsse h£ec omnia salus est adolescentulis."— JlTenWw*. 

After a eilence of twenty-three j[ear3 (his last work, " Tancred," was pnb. 
Bflhed in 1847), this eminent English novelist reappears with a work in hit 
best style. ''Lothair" has all "the brilliant wit, the keen and sparkling 
eatire, and the refined grace, of the most popular of its predecessors. K 
deals with current topics of the deepest interest— with Feuianism, Ritual- 
lara, the Catholic Question, the intrigues of the Jesuits, etc., etc. 

NOTICES OF THE PRESS. 

" There is not a fast character, a fast trait, or a fast phrase, in tlie whole 
of ' Lothair,' yet the story is a story of yesterday— almost of to-day— and 
comes fresh and warm from the author's study. . . ' Lothair ' will be read 
by the whole world, will provoke immense discussion, and will greatly 
deepen the interest with which the author's ovra character, genius, and 
career, have long been contemplated by the nation." — London Daily News. 

" ' Lothair ' gives proof of rare originality, versatility, flexibility, force, and 
freshness. One can only glance over the merits of a novel so pregnant with 
thought and character, nor would we wish to do more were it possible. We 
should be very sorry to weaken the interest that must accompany the peru- 
sal of the book. We had thought Mr. Disraeli dared a great deal in riskinir 
his reputation on another novel, but now that we have read it we do not feel 
called upon to pay him many compliments on his courage. As he wrote ho 
must have felt that the risk was illusory, and assured himself that his pow- 
ers had brightened instead of rusting in half a lifetime of repose."— Zondora 
Times, 

"As a Beries of brilliant sketches of character, with occasional digres. 
Bions into abstract and speculative topics, ' Lothair ' need not fear comparison 
with the most sparkling of its author's previous works." — London Observer. 

" Nothing of the original nerve of Mr Disraeli's style has been lost by 
the lapse of years. Fresh as ' Coningsby,' vigorous as ' Vivian Grey,' tender 
as ' Henrietta Temple,' enthralling as ' Tancred,' humorous as any of his 
former works, ' Lothair,' apart from the interest attaching to it on account 
of the position of its author, would be the literary success of the season." — 
London Standard. 

" As a literary production the new story is all that the admirers of ' Vivian 
Grey ' could have wished. The deft hand has lost none of its cunning. Tho 
wealth of glowing description, whose richness becomes at times almost a 
painful enjoyment, the keen satire, the sparkling epigram, the wonderful 
sketches of society, the airy skimmin<^ over the surface of life, touching 
npon its fashionable graces, laughing a little at its fashionable follies— all are 
here as we knew them of old. The brightness is uudimmed and the spirit 
is unsubdued." — ^ew York Tribune. 

In 1 vol., cloth, 12mo, price $2.00 ; also, in paper, octavo, price $1.00. 

*if* Copies of either mailed, post-free, to any address within, the United 
States, on receipt of price. 

UNIFORM EDITION OF DISRAELI'S NOVELS. 

The imdersigned will publish immediately a cheap uniform edition ol 
Disraeli's novels, octavo, paper covers, as follows : 

I. HENRIETTA TEMPLE. 60c. IV. ALROY. 50c. 
II, VENETIA. 50c. V. CONTAKINI FLEMING. BK>e. 

ai. THE YOUNG DUKE. 50c. VI. VIVIAN GREY. GOc. 

O. APPLETON & CO., PubUshers, New York. 



GRACE AGUILAR'S \VORKS. 



HOME INFLUENCE. A Tale for Mothers and Daughters. 

Cloth, $1. 

THE MOTHER'S RECOMPENSE. A Sequel to Home In- 

fluence. Cloth, $1. 

WOMAN'S FRIENDSHIP. A Story of Domestic Life. Cloth, 

$1.. 

THE VALE OF CEDARS ; or, the Martyr. Cloth, $1. 

THE DAYS OF BRUCE. A Story from Scottish History. 3 

vols. Cloth, $2.00. 

HOME SCENES AND HEART STUDIES. Tales. Cloth, $1. 
THE WOMEN OF ISRAEL. Characters and Sketches from 

the Holy Scriptures. Two vols. Cloth, $2.00. 



CRITICISMS ON GRACE AGUILAR'S V/ORKS. 

HOME INFLTTENCE.—'' Grace Aguilar wrote and spoke as one inspired ; 
she condensed and spiritualized, and all her thoughts and feelings were 
steeped in the essence of celestial love and truth. To those who really knew 
Grace Aguilar, all culogium falls short of her deserts, and she has left a 
hiank in her particular walk of literature, which we never expect to see 
filled w^:'— Pilgrimages to English Shrines, by Mrs. Hall. 

MOTHEH'S MECOMPENSE. -" ' The Mother's Eecompense' forms a 
fitting close to its predecessor, ' Home Influence.' The results of maternal 
care are fully developed, Us rich rewards are set forth, and its lesson and 
its moral are powerfully enforced, "—i/w'nmg' Post. 

WOMAN'S FJRIENJDSHIP.—^'- We congratulate Miss Aguilar on the 
spirit, motive, and composition of this story. Her aims are eminently 
moral, and her cause comes recommended by the most bcautiCiil associa- 
tions. These, connected with the skill here evinced lu their development, 
insure the success of her la.horB.'"— Illustrated News. 

VAjLE of cedars.—''- The authoress of this most fascinating volume has 
selected for her field one of the most remarkable eras in modern history— the 
reigns of Ferdinand and Isabella. The tale turns on the extraordinary ex- 
tent to which concealed Judaism had gained footing at that period in Spain. 
It is marked by much power of description, and by a woman's delicacy of 
touch, and it will add to its writer's well-earned TCTputiXiion.''''— Eclectic Pev. 

DATS OF BRUCE.— ''The tale is well told, the interest warmly sustained 
throughout, and the delineation of fcm;ile cliarocter is marked by a delicate 
sense of moral beauty. It is a work that may be confided to the bands of a 
daughter by her parent. "— ft)w;-< Journal. 

II03rE SCENES.—'' Grace Aeuilar knew the female heart better than ary 
writer of our day, and in every fiction from her pen we trace the same 
masterly analvsis and development of the motives and feelings of woman'*; 
nature."— CH^ic. 

WOMEN OF ISRAEL.— "A work that is sufficient of Itself to create and 
ci'owu a reputation."— J//'5. S. C. Hall. 

D. APPLETOIT & CO., Publishers. 



BOOKS 

BY THE 

AUTHOR OF "THE HEIR OF REDCLYFFE.' 



I. THE HEIR OF REDOLYFFE. 2 vols. 12mo, cloth. 

II. DYNE VCR TERRACE j or, The Clue of Life. 2 vo's. 
1 2mo, cloth. 

til. HEARTSEASE j or, The Brother's Wife. 2 vols. 12mo, 
cloth. 

IV. KENNETH ; or, The Rear Guard of the Grand Army. 

1 vol. 12mo, cloth. 

V. THE CASTLE BUILDERS. 1 vol. ]2mo, cloth. 

VI. THE TWO GUARDIANS ; or, Home in this World. 1 

vol. 12mo, cloth. 

VII. BEECH CROFT. 1 vol. 12mo, cloth. 
VIII. RICHARD THE FEARLESS. 1 vol. 12mo. 
IX. THE LANCES OF LYNWOOD. 1 vol. 16mo. 
X HOPES AND FEARS. 2 vols. 12mo, cloth. 

" " " Cheap c(l., 8vo, paper. 

XI. THE YOUNG STEP-MOTHEP. 2 vols. 12nio, 



Extract from a review of "The Heir of EedclyfFe," and "Heartsease,'' 
in the North American Review for April. 

"The first of her "WRrnNGS wincH?tiADE a sensation here was tiih 

• Heir,* and what a sensation it was ! Referring to the remains ofthk 
tear- washed covers of the copy aforesaid, we find it belonged to tub 

• eighth thousand.' how many thousands have been issued since by 
rhe publishers to supply the demand for new, and the places ok 
drowned, dissolved, or swept away old copies, we do not attempt to 

conjecture. not individuals merely, but households consisting in 

great par": of tender-hearted young damsels were plunged into 

MOURNING. "With a tolerable acquaiwtance with FICTITIOUS HEROES (not 

TO SPFAK OF REAL ONES), FROM SiR CuARLES GrANDISON DOWN TO THE NUR- 
SERY iDoi, Carlton, we have little hesitation in pronouncing Sm Guy 
Mouville, of Redolyffe, Baronet, the most admirable one we ever met 
with, in story or out. The glorious, joyous boy, the brilliant, ardent 

GUILD OK genius AND OF FORTUNE, CROWNED WITH THE BEAUTY OF HIS EARLY 
HOLINESS, AND OVERSHADOWED WITH THE DARKNESS OF HIS HEREDITAKl 
6LOOM, AJfi> THE SOFT AND TOUCHING SADNESS OF HIS EARLY DEATH — WHAT M 

euiinoK js •ciuaiE 1 What a vlsiom I " 



